


With Cherries On Top

by ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa



Category: Bloodsucking Bastards (2015), Pedro Pascal - Fandom
Genre: AU, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Only One Bed, The Proposal - Freeform, Vampires, fake married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 58,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25282468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa/pseuds/ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa
Summary: After countless late nights and giving up important things in your life for a job and a man that refuses to promote you, your family begs you to quit when you break it to them that you have to miss your grandmother’s 85th birthday. Max Phillips may have left the country an American citizen but he came back an undead vampire, meaning his status in the States is no longer valid. In order to not get deported to Romania, he tells immigration that the two of you are getting married and he strikes a deal to make it worth your while.
Relationships: Max Phillips & Reader
Comments: 53
Kudos: 104





	1. The Mistake & The Lie

“I’m sorry, but can you go any faster?” 

You bobbed your knee up and down and tried to keep your voice level when all you wanted to do was scream at the driver. He had been chatting until you had, as kindly as one could, told him to shut up. Now, he was conveniently ignoring you. You looked out into the street as cars passed you by and traffic started to slow down the closer you got to the airport. 

“Sorry. Can’t control traffic.”

Of course this would happen. Nothing seemed to go right in the last month, well, except for one thing.

If you didn’t hurry he would be on that plane and gone and you would have both made a giant mistake. You knew it. He knew it. But the curse of being in love with someone who was just as stubborn as you were was bound to bring some challenges. In love? Your stomach sank as you realized you had thought the words aloud in your head.

Cursing under your breath quietly, you dug through the small clutch purse in your lap and pulled out a few bills. You reached down and took off your high heels one at a time, holding them both by the straps in your left hand. As the taxi approached the first terminal you sat up and unlocked the door.

“This is fine. Thanks!” You tossed the money over the front seat and got out, not bothering to listen to whatever displeasure he yelled out behind you. 

You ran as fast as you could, trying not to think about the fact that you were running barefoot through JFK. The bottoms of your feet slapped the tile floor in an unpleasant way but it was faster than it would have been in the pumps that you clutched in your hand. As you approached the giant Departures board, you searched frantically for the non-stops to Romania. There was only one.

“Yes!” You said, realizing that you were in the correct terminal and the gate wasn’t that far away. 

The only thing that stood between you and the biggest mistake of your life was airport security. Your eyes searched through the crowd, looking for him, that brown hair, those beautiful eyes, that stupid bespoke suit that wasn’t truly bespoke but there was no telling him that. He was frustrating. He was unbelievable. He was the most irritating man you had ever known–and you loved him. You loved Max Fucking Phillips. Shit.

“Max!” You yelled over the heads of the crowd as you thought you saw his broad shoulders walking towards the gate. “Shit.” You cursed and ran up to the first available TSA podium. 

“Valid ID and plane ticket, ma'am.” The agent said, from her stool as she clicked her pen and held out her hand. You dug through your clutch and slapped your driver’s license into her hand and she looked it over as she continued to hold out her palm. “Ticket?”

“I don’t have one. I just need–”

“If you don’t have a ticket, ma'am, then you can’t get through security." 

“Look,” you put your hands on the podium and dipped your head slightly to look her in the eyes. “I just need to talk to another passenger. His name is Max Phillips. It will take two seconds–”

“I understand that this is probably very important,” she leaned on her elbow and at least tried to give you a look of sympathy, even though it was hardly genuine. “But rules are rules and unless you have a ticket, you are not getting passed this checkpoint. I’m sorry.” She raised her hand and waved her fingers, yelling over your head to the line of other people. “Next!”

Defeated, you took your driver’s license and walked over to a bench next to a charging station and a very unused payphone. You bent over and slipped on your high heels one at a time, trying and failing to keep the tears in your eyes. For once, it wasn’t his fault. For once, the only man you knew who didn’t have a soul, had tried to do the right thing. 

–

Three Weeks Earlier  
New York City

You handed the platinum company card to the barista across the counter and picked up the drink tray as she handed you back your receipt. Balancing the phone on your shoulder, you heaved a heavy sigh and quickly walked out of the coffee shop and looked both ways before trotting across the busy city street.

“I know, Dad. Yes, I know.” You had said the same sentence fifty times but it was never going to be enough, not after you had broken the news of being unable to attend another family event. 

“It’s work I have to–..”

…

“No, I tried asking him–”

…

“If I could, I would. Please, tell her I’m sorry and I promise–”

…

“Dad, I–Okay, okay, okay, love you too. Bye.” You threw your phone into your purse as you hopped up onto the sidewalk and blew out a hard breath. “FUCK!” you cursed, wanting to stomp your foot. A few passersby gave you a startled look and you quietly apologized, ducking your head and walking up to the double doors of the company main entrance. 

“Mornin’ Doll!” The doorman in a nice black suit said as he held open the door for you and your coffees.

“Good morning, Jerry,” you gave the older man a kind smile and held out one of the coffee cups to him with a wink. “Almost the weekend.”

“You’re an angel, you know that right?” He said, with a look of genuine surprise as he wished you a good day and went back to his post. 

The lobby was just as busy as it always was, with phones ringing and elevators dinging as people of all kinds hurried to their respective offices and floors. You had been working for Dévour Sales and Marketing Consultants for almost five years. It was a good job, with good benefits, and when you had taken it you were told there were many ways to move up the ladder. And yet, after five years, you were still getting coffee and keeping the appointment book for the man in charge. 

The elevator dinged and you hopped on, pulling your phone back out and responding to a quick e-mail and confirming a two o’clock appointment in your calendar. Today had to be better than this morning, it just had to be. It felt like you had woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

You had missed your alarm and had spent the entire morning running around like a chicken with no head. A quick call to the coffee shop had saved you, however, as having the same order for almost five years had put you on good terms with the majority of the staff. And somehow, someway, you had managed to get on the elevator and up to the main office with five minutes to spare. 

"Cutting it kind of close, don’t you think?” One of the sales girls gave you a reassuring grin and you raised the coffee cups in solidarity. 

“I like to live on the edge,” you joked and hurried down the row of desks with a smile. One of the people held up a manila envelope with Max’s name on it and you snatched it without so much as a pause. You were going to make it. Everything was going to be okay. “Shit!”

You gasped loudly and in shock as one of the interns backed up into you and crunched one of the cups against your chest, spilling one of the coffees all over the floor. Thankfully you jumped back and it all ended up on the carpet and just a few drops on your red high heels. 

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry–please don’t tell him. Don’t tell him it was me. Don’tlethimeatmeplease.” The last part was said so frantically and quick, that you were sure the kid didn’t take a breath. 

You squared your shoulders and held on firmly to your envelope and the last intact coffee. A deep breath left slowly through your nose as you fought to keep your voice even and not traumatize the young employee in front of you. 

“Get it cleaned up before he walks through those doors and go get me another one.” He paused, nodding his head up and down but not moving. “Now!” You hissed and he hurried to do as you asked. 

Max’s office was the biggest one in the entire building. It was a shame that such a view was wasted on someone that could not enjoy it unless he was working past sundown. All of the windows were covered with blackout, motorized blinds, controlled by a remote that you hit to make sure they were all in their proper place. You placed your–well, now his, coffee on the large ornate desk along with the envelope and the memos for the presentation that was coming up today. 

His office was bigger than your living room, which was easy when you lived in a studio apartment in Manhattan. The couch, matching chairs, and coffee table that sat on the opposite side of the room was nicer than the ones you owned as well. With another big breath and a roll of your shoulders to try and relieve the tension in your neck, you stood facing the door and put on your best smile as it opened. 

His grin was as big as his personality. You were certain his sunglasses cost more than your entire outfit and his rich brown hair was perfectly in place. His dark blue suit was perfectly tailored; hugging his broad shoulders and complimenting the rest of his frame was the matching suit coat and butter-yellow tie. 

“Good morning, Mr. Phillips,” you gave him a nod and he took off his sunglasses and continued to smile. 

“I like those shoes,” he nodded to your red pumps. “New?”

“No, I’ve had them for awhile.” You followed him to his desk and took the memos from the top and held them out. “The Phaliscite presentation is still on the fence–”

“I called them this morning and they’re coming in this Friday.” He shrugged off his suit coat and flung it over the back of his chair. “You know if you wore lipstick the same color as those shoes, men would fall at your feet.”

You ignored the last comment completely and put the memos back on his desk. “That’s a big deal. Evan has been trying to get that presentation booked for weeks and they haven’t so much as returned his calls.”

“Mmhm,” Max hummed as he picked up the coffee on his desk and took a generous sip. He paused and held the cup in front of his face, hesitating as he read the side and his grin returned even wider than it was before. “Sweetheart?”

“Yes?” you said, mentally screaming at the pet name that seemed to fall so easily from his lips no matter how unprofessional. 

“Who is ‘Ryan’ and why does he want me to ‘call him’?” He turned the cup to show you the name and phone number that the barista who had been flirting with you for the last couple of months scribbled in permanent marker. 

You bit your lip and fought to keep his gaze. “Because that was my coffee.” 

“And why, may I ask, am I drinking your coffee?”

“Because yours spilled.”

He hummed again and put the cup to his lips taking another drink. “And you want me to believe that you drink, double shot, non-fat, almond milk, cinnamon vanilla lattes?”

“Yup–they’re just…so delicious.” Your words were slow and careful because you both knew they were a lie. You had been drinking the same coffee as Max for the last five years on the off chance that one of them did spill. You may not have been a boy scout, but you were smart enough to know to always be prepared. The phone rang, saving you from his shit-eating smirk and continuing to talk yourself into a hole and you scooped it up quickly. “Mr. Phillips’s office.”

“Is that Evan?” Max asked, and you nodded. “Tell him we’re headed over there.” He pointed to the wall where Evan’s office lay on the other side of it.You relayed the message to the man in question and hung up the phone. 

“Is there something I should know?” You raised an eyebrow and Max stood up with a shake of his head. 

“Nope. But you might want to bring a helmet.” 

He straightened his tie and you cursed under your breath and followed him out of the office and the short distance down the hall to Evan’s equally large but much less immaculately decorated work space. Evan had been the sales assistant manager for longer than Max, and the fact that he had been passed up for Max when it came to taking the CFO title had caused more than a little animosity between the two. 

“Evan,” Max said as he entered and the younger, slightly frumpy looking man glanced up from his computer. 

“Max,” he said, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. 

“Did you call and get the Phaliscite presentation set up like I asked?” Max crossed his arms and you felt the tension in the office rise enough that you closed the office door quietly behind the two of you. 

“I told you,” Evan stood up and glared at his boss, gesturing to his desk. “They aren’t taking the bait.”

“That’s funny,” Max gave a laugh that clearly said what he was about to say was not humorous in the slightest. “Because I called them this morning and they seemed to jump at the idea of working with us–you didn’t call them, did you?”

Evan scoffed, “Max–I did–”

“Evan, you’re fired.” Max said simply and you felt your jaw open in shock, quickly shutting it and trying to stay calm and collected. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Max held out his hand to the other man’s desk. “Take the rest of the day to gather your things, but I am letting you go.”

“You can’t–”

“I asked you multiple times to contact them as this would be a huge sale and you didn’t do it. Thank you for your years at this company, but I think you are no longer needed. Okay, buddy?” 

Max smiled and winked as he pushed away from the wall and once again walked out. Evan’s head looked like it was about to explode and you hurried to follow your boss before you could be caught in the crossfire. 

“What’s he doing?” Max asked without looking and you glanced over your shoulder back into Evan’s office.

“He looks a little unhinged,” you said carefully as you watched Evan pull at his own hair and throw his phone across the room before storming towards the door. “He’s coming out.”

“Don’t do it, Evan. Don’t do it–” Max said quietly and you saw the tension in his shoulders get tight as he braced for the oncoming storm.

“You!” Evan yelled as he cleared the doorway into the hall and pointed at Max’s back. “YOU…bloodsucking BASTARD!”

Both you and Max stopped and turned around as the rest of the office became silent and turned their attention to the three of you. Everyone’s eyes were wide and unblinking, not wanting to miss a moment of whatever was about to happen. You swore the phones had even stopped ringing. 

“Evan–”

“You can’t do this to me. You can’t fire me!” Evan gestured to his chest and flung his arms wildly. “You don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, sandbagging me on this Phaliscite thing so you can look good to Ted and the uppers!?” He looked at the other employees in their cubicles as if they were going to back him up. “You are a MONSTER!”

“Evan,” Max said, calmly, retaining his pleasantly perfected salesman smile. “You better stop while you’re ahead, slugger.”

“You have no soul, literally. Why they hired a vampire to run this company I will never know, but you think you can use it to treat us all like your servants! Your army of Renfields!” Evan pointed his finger at Max and then to you. “And you! You poisonous bitch–he’s never going to promote you. You know that right?”

“Enough–”

Evan ignored Max and kept his attention on you. “He has passed you over for every promotion and he will continue to do so as he drains the life from you. Because Max Phillips cares about nothing but himself!”

Max took a deep breath and stepped forward, putting his body between you and the disgruntled man. “Listen, pal. I didn’t fire you because I’m a monster. I fired you because you’re lazy, unmotivated, and have no hunger for any part of your pathetic life. You spend more time trying to bang Amanda in human resources than you do actually making a sale–and if you say another word, I will personally throw you out onto the sidewalk.” Evan tried to speak and Max raised his voice. “Another word, and you will leave here with security and (y/n) will film it with her phone and put it on that website–what’s it called?” 

“Uh..Tik Tok.” You cleared your throat and kept your eyes on the carpet as Max addressed you. 

“Yes, exactly. Is that what you want?” Neither of them said anything as they took a moment to glare at one another and Max leaned forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “Didn’t think so. See ya around.”

The two of you walked towards the conference room where a handful of people were already waiting and you watched as Max rolled his shoulders and shook his head, plastering on a large smile before walking through the door. You had to hand it to him, he was good at his job. He was just as poised as he was ruthless and despite the fact that a large portion of the building was absolutely terrified of him, you had definitely had worse bosses.

“Alright, people!” He said as he held out his hands in a grandiose gesture and moved to the front of the room while you took your seat by the projector. “What do we sell here?” He turned around and pointed at one of the employees who had already started to fall asleep. “Michael?”

“Uh..” the man sat up straighter. “Shake weights?”

“No, Michael,” Max shook his head. “We sell dreams.” He made two fists and drew them in against his chest, scrunching up his face like he was experiencing some kind of unseen pleasure. “Sales is seduction–and when you seduce,” he walked in front of the smart board, the light catching his chocolate-brown eyes. “Do you say–I have a 401k? Or, I floss? No, you say,” he stopped in front of you and put his finger under your chin, making you look at him. “I love you.” 

He gave you a wink and went back to the front of the room leaving you wishing you could disappear into the floor. 

“Sink your teeth into their poor, pathetic, human lives and give them hope…and better abs.” He chuckled and opened up his suit jacket as if to display his body. The action made a few of the women sit up and pay more attention. If you weren’t looking you would have missed the flash of fang that was under his top lip and you swallowed hard. “Now, our goal for this quarter–”

–

The meeting had been what it usually was, Max giving a pep talk laden with innuendos of both the sexual and vampiric variety. You had heard almost every one of his speeches and you knew the tag lines well enough that you probably could have quoted some of them verbatim. Max was a salesman through and through, and he used himself to sell just about anything to anyone, and it worked. 

No one seemed to bat an eye at the fact that he had fangs and was on an all liquid diet. Vampires had been out to the world for the better part of the decade and having one in charge of your company was now considered very progressive, albeit ridiculous. Just like any ‘minority’ that came before them, they now had their own laws, their own legislation, and killing them on sight was considered just as much murder as a regular human being. 

The two of you had been called upstairs to Ted’s office later in the afternoon. Max had rolled his eyes and made sure you knew the drill of waiting out in the hall and in ten minutes barging in and saying there was an important client on the line and he was needed elsewhere. Max had little respect for either of the men that made up the board of directors for this branch, and his feelings weren’t really a secret. 

Max left you in the hall and walked in, leaving the door cracked behind him as he greeted each of the men sitting on the other side of the table. Ted was a balding middle aged man that carried all of his weight around his middle. Barry was about the same age but skinny in all the places Ted was not. Standing side by side the two of them looked like a cliche cartoon duo.

“Max, excellent work with booking the reps from Phaliscite, really, really good work.” Ted started, praising Max as his chubby hands stacked a bunch of papers and pushed them to the side. 

“Thanks, Ted,” Max nodded. “Are we here to discuss my second raise?” Max joked, putting his hands in his pockets. Ted suddenly started to sweat. 

“Max, I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Ted’s voice quivered and Max looked to the other man at his right.

“Barry? What’s going on?” Max raised an eyebrow and leaned a hand on the back of the chair closest to him. 

“Max, there’s no easy way to say this, so we are just going to come out with it.” The other man rubbed his chin and crossed his arms. “You’re being deported.”

Max’s eyes widened slightly before he regained his composure and chuckled. “I’m sorry, what? Deported? From where? I was born in Queens–I’m an American citizen.”

“Correction,” Ted said, holding up a finger and handing Max a piece of paper. “You were an American Citizen–when you were human. You ‘died’ over in Romania when you were going through the business program. Meaning if you wanted to become a citizen again as a vampire, you needed to reapply.”

“Bullshit,” Max said, his face hardening and both of the men across from him paled slightly. “You’re kidding.”

“We wish we were, Max. You’re invaluable to this company–”

“Give me a break, Ted,” Max crossed his arms and shook his head. “Okay, so, fine. What do I need to fill out?”

“There’s nothing to fill out, Max,” Barry shook his head and sighed. “We can start the process to reapply but you have to go back to Romania and live there for at least a year. After that, you can come back to the states–”

“A year?!” Max threw his hands and leaned heavily on the chair, gripping it so tightly the frame cracked under his superhuman strength. “I can work remotely. Conference call in–”

“Unfortunately no.” Ted said, glancing worriedly at the furniture currently in distress at the hands of the vampire. “We already thought of that. If you’re deported, you can’t work for an American based company. We will be replacing you with Evan.”

“Evan?” Max barked and both of them jumped. “Evan! The little punk I just fired?”

“He’s the only one with enough experience to take the position–”

“Oh, give me a fucking break, Ted!” Max repeated.

“Max, you have to believe us, if there was any way, any way at all that we could keep this from happening we would–”

All three of them looked up as you knocked on the door and opened it. “I’m so sorry gentlemen,” you gestured to the two older men behind the desk and then looked at Max. “Max–”

“What?!” He snapped and you jumped, wondering if he had forgotten the plan that you were supposed to interrupt. 

“I have Chad from Phaliscite on the line–I told him you were in a meeting, but he said it was urgent.” 

The way Max looked at you, made you stop talking. His eyes widened slightly as realization seemed to dawn on him and his lips turned up in a grin that made a shiver race up your spine. That was the grin of a large jungle cat that had just laid eyes on dinner. You searched your brain for every interaction you had had with the man, and you could confidently say that he had never looked at you quite like that. 

“Gentlemen,” Max swiveled himself back around and straightened his suit jacket. “I understand we are in quite the predicament. But I have a confession and I think now is as good a time as any to come clean.”

All three of you watched Max with a confused gaze as he took a few strides over to stand beside you and slide his hand around the curve of your waist. His expensive cologne filled your nostrils as he pulled you into the side of his body. 

“What are you–” you started to say but he ignored you. 

“We’re getting married.” He gave you an almost painful squeeze and you looked back at the other two men in complete terror. You all exchanged a glance of shock and you looked up at the man standing next to you. 

“W-who is getting married?” you whispered, but once again your protests fell on deaf ears.

“Honey, don’t be shy. The cat’s out of the bag,” Max smiled wide and nodded towards the two men behind the desk. “Tell them.”

“We..we are–” you started but your voice was shaking so hard, Max interrupted you once again. 

“Oh, look at her, she’s so excited,” he used the hand on your waist to shake you happily at his side. 

“Isn’t she your secretary?” Ted asked and you felt your neck get splotchy and red with a flare of anger at the almost distasteful way he said the word.

“Executive Assistant,” you corrected firmly and Max nodded. 

“Well, titles aren’t everything, besides it wouldn’t be the first time one of us fell for our secretaries now, would it, Barry?” Max pointed at the man and gave a guffaw of a laugh as if they now had a shared hilarious circumstance. “You see, my girl here and I are just two people,” Max searched for his words as he slipped into his sales technique like a second skin. “Two people who were never meant to fall in love.”

“Uhh..” you said, unable to articulate more than that.

“All of those late nights at the office,” Max waved his hand as if reminiscing about a romance that you knew for a fact had never happened. “Weekend sales trips. Five star hotels. No need for turn-down service if you never leave the bed–if you know what I’m saying.” He winked at Ted and you fought the urge to knee him in the balls. “And then, you know, something just happened, right honey?” 

“Oh, something happened alright,” you grit your teeth and put your hand over his on your waist, gripping his fingers as hard as you could. 

“You just can’t fight a love like ours,” Max dipped his head and you turned your face quickly so his lips collided with your cheek instead of your mouth. You put your hand on his chest and hoped the other men didn’t notice how hard you had to fight the urge to shove him away from you. “So, gentlemen, we good? You happy?”

“I guess–” Ted started.

“Because we are happy,” Max gestured to the two of you and you thought you were going to throw up. “So, so happy. Just happy, happy, h–” He was starting to ramble and you were thankful that Barry cut him off. 

“Max. Max? This is terrific. Just make it legal.” Barry held his hands out like the decision was final. 

“Ah, yes, legal!” Max said, holding up his ring finger and moving his hand away from your waist and giving you a pat on the ass. “We are going to do that this weekend and get down to the immigration office straight away. Sort this whole mess out–”

“Good,” Ted nodded. “Good job, as always, Max.”

Max raised his hand and had the sheer audacity to make finger guns at the older man and while you fought not to make a gagging noise. Ted of course, in his usual quest to worship the ground Max walked on, thought it was the coolest thing he had ever seen. Max ushered you through the door and shut it quickly behind him as the two of you all but ran back down the hall towards the elevators. 

“We need to talk,” Max said, going to grab your arm but you were quick to yank it away from him. 

“No, shit!” You kept walking and he chased after you as you hung a right and went down the stairwell. 

“Where are you going?” He called after you and followed, your heels echoing in the stairwell thankfully drowned out his protests.

“Don’t touch me,” you said, firmly.

You couldn’t decide if you wanted to punch him or cry because of how much anger was bubbling in your chest. It was hard to breathe, but all you knew was you needed to put as much distance in between you and Max Fucking Phillips before you did something rash. What the hell was that? What was he thinking?You weren’t sure how accurate they were, but you suddenly found yourself making a mental list of all the ways horror movies had taught you to kill vampires.


	2. The Proposal & The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max explains himself and gets down on one knee to ask the big question. Your trust is tested as he tries to pull a fast one, but he makes you an offer you cannot refuse.

Max finally caught up with you and convinced you to go with him to the immigration office. The entire cab ride across town you were seething. Neither of you spoke, and when the cab parked in front of the Federal Plaza building you got out. Glad to leave him to pay for the cab and top it off with slamming the car door in his face. You heard him growl his frustration but didn’t stop as you stormed into the building and he had to jog to keep up.

“Will you slow down?” He snarled and you ignored him.

How could he be this egregiously shameful? You knew Max was cunning. That he would do anything to make the sale, to close a deal, but this–this was a whole other level, even for him.

In hushed tones, in his office, as you threw your items in your purse, he had explained that he was being deported. That the government had caught him in a technicality of his after-life status versus his human one, and although you agreed it seemed to be a petty place to draw the line, his way of kicking you into the fire with him made you not want to help. Did he deserve to be sent back to Romania? Probably not. But forcing you into marriage? Or an even better term for it would be forcing you into fraud. The two of you were breaking the law and he didn’t even have the balls to ask you first.

The immigration office was jammed packed with multiple lines of people waiting for a free attendant and dozens of others waiting in chairs, looking over reading material and playing on their phones. This was going to take forever. Apparently, Max had other plans, as he grabbed your hand and pulled you both to the front of the line. No one stopped him, no one questioned him as you tried to make your face as apologetic as possible to the people already in line that were giving you dirty looks. He asked for the fiancee visa application and the next thing you knew the two of you were being led into a cramped office in the back and looking over the desk at a very stoic, older, government worker.

“Sorry about the wait, folks,” the older man said as he pulled out a file folder filled with papers. “Busy day.”

“Of course, of course,” Max nodded, crossing his ankle over his knee and giving the man his best smile. “We appreciate you meeting with us on such short notice.”

The older man looked Max up and down slowly and smirked–whatever Max was selling, he wasn’t buying and the realization made you want to lean over the chair and vomit on the floor. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Okay, so, I only have one question for you,” he continued to smirk as he closed your file and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Are you both committing fraud, in order to keep Mr. Phillips here from being deported back to Romania and losing his position as CFO at his company?”

“What!”

“Ridiculous!”

Max and you both scoffed at the same time and shook your heads as you waved your hands in front of you and he rolled his eyes, giving a good-hearted laugh.

“Mr.–” Max looked at the nameplate on the desk as he leaned forward and addressed the man. “Yates. That is an absurd assumption. We are just a couple that want to get married and I assure you, our case will be the easiest one you have all day. So, just tell us what we need to sign and we can get out of your hair.”

You wished more than anything you had the courage to grip Max’s leg and beg him to shut up. His normal bullshit was not going to get either of you any favors with this man and if he didn’t tread carefully, you both were about to be in a world of trouble. You knew you wouldn’t last in jail, but Max really wouldn’t last in jail. That mouth that never seemed to stop talking would get him stabbed…wait, maybe jail was a good idea after all.

“What makes you think we’re lying, Mr. Yates?” You asked, crossing your ankles and moving your legs to the side comfortably.

“A tip that came in this afternoon from a concerned citizen–”

“His name wouldn’t happen to be Evan, would it?” Max asked.

“As a matter of fact, it is.”

“I knew it. He is nothing more than a very disgruntled employee who is out to get me.” Max shook his head and waved it away as if that discredited the tip. “I fired him this morning.”

The other man scribbled down a couple of notes and went back to pressing his fingertips together and leaning his elbows on the desk. He heaved a large sigh and suddenly looked very tired.

“Here’s what’s going to happen next, you two. I am going to schedule you an interview for next week. I am going to put you both in separate rooms. I am going to ask you a series of questions that real couples would know all of the answers to.” He said the term ‘real’ in a pointed way and looked directly at you, making your stomach fall to your feet. “And that’s the easy part–”

“Okay, seems fair.” Max started, but Mr. Yates ignored him.

“Then I am going to dig deeper. I’m going to check your phone records, your emails, talk to your friends and family–your coworkers. If anything, and I mean anything, seems out of order or does not match your story, you,” he pointed to Max. “Will be deported to Romania indefinitely. And you, young lady,” he turned and pointed to you. “Will be fined two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars with a minimum five year sentence in federal prison.”

You swallowed so hard it hurt as you felt your vision narrow, your body threatening you with the idea of passing out. You felt like you were sitting inside a vacuum, like a larger entity had sucked all of the air out of the already too small office space.

Prison. It wasn’t enough that you had been at his beck and call for the last five years. If this all went sideways, Max Phillips, in a last act of extreme selfishness was going to get you sent to prison.

“So, that being said, Ms. (y/l/n),” he smiled and crossed his arms as he addressed you. “Do you want to talk to me? Tell me what’s really going on here.”

“What’s really going on–” you started, your heart hammering in your ears so loudly that you were sure Mr. Yates could hear it.

You looked at Max and thoughtp about how you wanted to do this. Could you really throw him under the bus and let them ship him away from his home? Could you match his heartlessness and protect yourself above all else? No. Despite how much he deserved it, that wasn’t how you operated. He had insisted on dragging you into this mess and now it seemed, at least for the time being, you were going to have to play along. He looked at you with those soft, coffee colored eyes, so full of anticipation that you almost groaned. Instead you reached over the arm of his chair and patted his leg.

“What’s really going on is that Max and I are getting married,” you squeezed his knee and saw him give a full body sigh of relief out of the corner of your eye. “We just couldn’t tell anyone.”

“And why not?”

“Because he’s a vampire,” you shrugged. “And we were worried how my family would take it.”

“I see,” Mr. Yates leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms waiting for you to continue.

“And–” you, glanced at Max and back. “Because of the promotion.”

“Promotion?”

“Promotion?”

Both Max and the older man said at the same time and you steeled your resolve and continued.

“Yes, I am in line for a big promotion, and both of us felt if our relationship went public before that it would look unprofessional. Right, honey?” You looked at Max and although you were smiling, your eyes dared him to say otherwise.

“That’s…right, dear.” He nodded, putting his hand over yours on his knee.

Mr. Yates looked at the both of you for what felt like a very long time. You kept your smile even for so long, your cheeks started to ache. The hand you had on Max’s thigh offered a small amount of comfort and you allowed it to ground you, to center your mind as you did your best to look like the definition of truthfulness.

“Well,” he sighed and opened up a filing cabinet and pulled a very large binder full of papers for the two of you. “If that’s the story you’re sticking to. Here are the questions you could be asked, there are about three hundred of them–along with all of the forms that need to be filled out, references we will need, and copies of your identifications. As well as,” he paused and looked pointedly at the both of you. “The marriage certificate.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you leaned forward and took the binder from him.

“Have either one of you told your families about this, happy little arrangement?” he asked as he gestured between the two of you.

Max laughed and shook his head. “No, my parents are dead. Only child, too. It’s a real shame.”

Mr. Yates, chuckled dryly, not understanding how such information could be considered funny. “And what about you, Ms. (L/n)? Are all of your relatives dead as well?”

“Mine?” you put a hand to your chest. “No, no, they are alive–”

“We were actually going to tell them the news this weekend,” Max chimed in and you looked at him in surprise. “It’s grandma’s 85th birthday–we thought it would be a nice surprise.”

You stared at him like he had grown a second head. How did he know about your grandmother’s birthday? The idea that Max paid more attention to you than you thought was sitting uneasily in your stomach, but you continued to smile and nodded in agreement.

“We’re flying up to, (y/n)’s parents house.” Max took the binder as you handed it to him.

“And where is that?”

“Alaska.” You said simply, crossing your legs and adjusting the hem of your pencil skirt, reveling in the way Max’s entire face fell.

“Ah-ah-las-kah?“ Max stuttered and glared at you. "Alaska.” He cleared his throat and repeated.

You returned his intense look of malice with an overly satisfied smile. It felt good to ruffle those feathers, to catch him off guard and see him out of his element.

“Well, I wish you both a safe trip,” Mr. Yates stood up to show you the door and the both of you mirrored him. “I’ll call to schedule your visa interview after what I’m sure will be a lovely week.”

–

Leaving the federal office felt like you were walking in slow motion. You vaguely heard Max put his bluetooth on his ear and take a call, letting his boisterous voice echo in the too loud, too crowded lobby. Going out onto the street and feeling the cool air on your skin didn’t make breathing any easier as you thought about what just happened. In your trance you almost dropped the heavy glass door on Max’s face.

He hung up the call and started talking like everything was just a normal day back at the office, like the two of you hadn’t just been threatened with the American government absolutely ruining your lives.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said as he put his sunglasses on to protect him against the already very overcast autumn sky. “What’s going to happen is we are going to run up to your parent’s place, act like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend–we can stay in a hotel and that will make it easier to fake. Make sure you use the miles for the tickets–”

“Max…”

“I will pay to have you fly first class, but only, and I mean only if you use the miles. If I don’t get rewards, then we aren’t going.” He pulled his sleeve up slightly and looked at his watch. “Also, please confirm they offer vampire accommodations, because I swear if they put me next to some old hag like last time and I have to smell her O-positive, diabetic, dustiness for six hours–I’m. Going. To. Lose. It.”

“Max–”

He stopped as he realized he had walked quite a ways in front of you and he turned around. “Why aren’t you taking notes?”

Your jaw dropped and you stomped over to him and shoved the binder against his chest with enough force that he stumbled back a step. “I’m sorry! Were you not in that room with me just now? Were you not fucking listening??” You were almost screaming and he looked around quickly before stepping closer and towering over you.

“You look crazy, calm down–”

“Calm down? You have some neve, Max. Some. Fucking. Nerve.” With each word you poked your manicured finger into the middle of his chest, on top of his stupid, yellow tie. He grabbed your wrist to stop you but you yanked out of his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

“Listen,” he took a breath and spoke to you like the ticking time bomb that you were. “You did well back there. That thing about the promotion? That was genius. He really bought that.”

Evan’s words rang back through your head and you took a step back looking at Max. He’s never going to promote you. You know that, right? Five years. For five years you had done everything for him. You had done the work of an executive level salesman and made a secretary’s salary. And for what? To constantly be missing out on important things in your life? Friends. Family. Dating. You couldn’t remember the last time you had actually been on a date with anyone. Everything seemed to revolve around the man in front of you–and you had reached your limit. All of this was asking too much of you.

When you finally spoke, your voice was flat and even. “I meant it. I want that promotion.”

“To what? Evan’s job?” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I’m the one that is facing a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar fine, and jail time–that changes things. I want Evan’s old job and a thirty percent raise.” You crossed your arms and planted your feet as you held his gaze.

Max moved his bottom jaw from one side to the other, a tick you had often seen and come to realize meant he was mulling over his options. “Fifteen.”

“Forty.” You counter offered the wrong way and he gave a hard bark of laughter. “Okay, fine. I’m walking. You’re screwed. Goodbye, Max–have fun in Romania.”

No sooner did you turn around did Max lunge forward and grab you by the upper arm. “Okay! Okay. Fine.”

“Fine?”

He looked at you pointedly and pulled you into the front of his body. His eyes shimmered for a brief moment and his lips turned upward into a small grin. “Unless–you’ll take something else? Plus, ten percent of course, I’m not a monster.”

You felt as if a small breeze was whispering against the nape of your neck, and you fought the urge to bat at it like a fly. The press of his voice worked its way into your ear and you could almost feel it trying to go deeper. When you realized what he was doing, you gasped and slapped him across the face. “Did you just try and hypnotize me??”

“Ah, shit!” he released your arm and put his hand to his cheek. “Did it not work?!”

“Go to hell, Max!” You turned once again and started walking down the sidewalk, ignoring the faces of the people that were nosily watching your heated exchange.

“Why the fuck didn’t it work–” he mumbled, continuing to rub his cheek and coming to his senses once he saw you putting more distance between the two of you. “Hey!” He jogged quickly and passed you easily in your high heels, turning around so he could look you in the eye. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Typical,” you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“I can’t do this without you,” he held his hands up defensively and gave you an almost pleading look. “I’ll give you the promotion, and the raise. If I’m not at that company, they will get rid of you like that,” he snapped his fingers and you clenched your jaw. “I don’t want to go back to Romania. I didn’t have such a good trip the last time.” He smiled way too large, an action more for the purpose of pulling back his lips so he could gesture to his fangs. “So, will you do this?”

“I have a few conditions.”

“Name them.”

“We do this my way, and on my terms. This is my family that we are lying to, so we will tell them when I want, and how I want.”

“Done. Next?”

“How did you know it was my grandmother’s birthday?”

“You think I can’t hear every time your family calls and begs you to quit? Even without superhuman hearing–you sit right next to my office.” He made a gesture of his hand pantomiming a small distance.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” You both said one right after the other in shared stubbornness and mutual disdain. “Anything else?”

You crossed your arms under your breasts slowly and straightened your shoulders. “Ask me nicely.”

“Ask you what? I just–”

“Ask me to marry you.”

Max paused and leaned back a bit, rubbing a hand down his face and chuckling like your request was unbelievable. “Uh. Fine. Fine.” He nodded and cleared his throat. “Will you marry me?”

“Like you mean it,” you insisted. “On your knees.”

He gaped at you like a fish out of water. His large hand rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around embarrassed by the idea that any of the hundreds of people on the street could see what he was about to do. He looked at the ground to make sure there wasn’t anything obviously sticky lurking on the pavement before slowly getting down on one knee.

“There. Happy?” He gestured to himself and you nodded.

“Oh, extremely.”

He sighed and bit his tongue with what he really wanted to say as he looked up at you from his spot on the ground. “So, will you marry me?”

“I believe I said, ask me nicely. Sales. Is. Seduction. Right, Max?” You clenched your fists and brought them into your chest, mimicking his speech from earlier in a most obnoxious way. “Seduce me, then. Really sell it.”

Max blew a heavy sigh in the form of a loud raspberry and cracked his neck. He shook out his arms in a dramatic display like he was getting ready to perform and finally looked up at you. His expression was genuine enough. His eyes were warm and his smile small, and he even took your hand and held it out in front of him lightly.

“Sweetheart–(y/n), beautiful, intelligent, decadent, sexy, vibrant–”

“Enough.” You said with a frown. “Remember, I’m a person, not a dessert.”

He continued as if you hadn’t interrupted his string of praise. “Will you please, with cherries on top, marry me?”

You tapped your chin in mock contemplation and gave a single nod. “Okay. Yes. Although I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.” You let go of his hand and let it fall to his side as you adjusted your purse on your shoulder. “Get me a ring. If we break the news to my mother and there’s no ring, she will go bezerk.”

“Fair enough.”

“See you at the airport, Max.”

You walked passed him without another word, leaving the most powerful man you had ever met on his knees in the middle of the New York street.


	3. The Ring & The Save

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Max start learning a little more about each other. Your current predicament calls for a drink…or seven. And the two of you land in Alaska to meet your family.

You had taken Tylenol before you even went through security, but at this point you were pretty sure the entire bottle would not have prepared you for flying with Max Phillips. The non stop flight from JFK to Juno was almost ten hours and you had thought multiple times about stabbing your eardrums out with an ink pen. It wasn’t that the flight was bad, in fact the flight itself was quite nice. First class was definitely a new experience but you could get used to it. The padded leather seats and extra leg room meant you could lean back and stretch. You propped yourself up with a pillow, and a book and was content to relax. There was just one problem, Max.

His presence was about as loud as he was and he insisted on chatting up the cute stewardesses, reading over your shoulder, and reminding you almost every fifteen minutes that this flight was boring. He at one point in time asked if you wanted to join the mile-high club and you fought the urge to snap your book shut and smack him with it.

The flight attendant walked by and asked if you needed anything and you sat up and gave her a warm smile.

“Yeah, um, I’ll take a vodka cranberry, please.”

Max raised an eyebrow and looked at you, “It’s nine thirty in the morning.”

“Oh, shoot. You’re right!” You threw yourself over his lap and leaned into the isle to catch the attendant. Max grunted from the sudden weight of you and you bit back a grin. “I’m sorry, can you make it a Bloody Mary? Thank you.”

You leaned back into your seat and opened the binder from immigration. Max dusted off his slacks and continued to look at you with curious disdain.

“Maybe you should eat something first?”

“It comes with celery, I think.” You said without looking up. You could feel his eyes on you but refused to give him the satisfaction that it bothered you. The words on the page were suddenly the most interesting thing you had ever seen in your life and when he gave a heavy sigh, you grinned.

The attendant came back with your drink and you smiled as she set it on your fold out table tray.

“Is that the binder from I.N.S?” Max said and you nodded as you wrapped your lips around your straw and drank deep.

“Yup, and we have one week to learn all of this about each other. Which will be easy for me, because I can answer all of these questions about you–but you know nothing about me.” You looked up and glared as he snatched the binder from you and started flipping through it.

“You expect me to believe you know all of this about me?”

“I do,” you took another drink and turned in your seat to face him. “You never stop talking about yourself–and I’ve been listening to it for five years.”

“Well,” he said, flipping the page dramatically and looking at you with a grin. “I am my favorite subject.”

“At least you can admit it.”

He sat back in his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee, balancing the binder on his leg. “Alright, let’s have at it then. What’s my favorite color?”

“Red.” You said without hesitation. “Which is ironic now, all things considered.” He ignored the quip about his vampiric state and you leaned over the seat, making your drink slurp obnoxiously. “You know? Because of the blood–”

“Yes, I get the joke, dear.” He moved his finger down the page. “What am I allergic to?”

“Soy, gluten,” you ticked off on your fingers before waving your hand. “And a whole spectrum of human emotion.”

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” He looked at you exasperatedly and you shrugged. He sighed and shook his head. “Where did I grow up?”

“Transylvania.”

“Okay. I’m done.” He snapped the binder shut and you almost felt bad…almost.

“No! Okay, okay, come on, Max. I’m sorry,” you put your hand on his arm and he looked down at it, making you pull back like he had burned you. “Queens. You grew up in queens. See?”

“Well, you grew up in Sitka. One down. Only two hundred and ninety-nine more questions to go.”

You groaned and threw yourself over Max’s lap again and held up your finger. “Excuse me, Ma'am?” You hailed the attendant. “Another Bloody Mary, please.”

“Will you please, get off of me?” Max said, and you finished your drink and gave his nose a playful tweak.

You plopped back into your seat and leaned back against the headrest. “Next question.”

“Do I have any scars?” He turned in his seat to mirror you.

“You have a pretty bad one on your knee. I see it every time you have your meetings with Ted. A.K.A–racquetball.” Max nodded, indicating that you were correct and you continued. “So, what’s it from? College sports, I’m guessing. What pretentious, frat-boy sport did you play? Soccer? Lacrosse?” You gasped and put a hand to your mouth. “Ultimate Frisbee?”

“You’re very funny.” He sneered and shook his head. “And I’m not telling you.”

“What about me, Max? Do I have any scars?” You switched up the game. Proving that you knew everything about him wasn’t going to get you very far with the government unless he could return the favor.

“No,” he leaned in and lowered his voice. “But I’m pretty sure you have a tattoo.”

You choked on your drink and the action made him smile. Taking a deep breath and a moment to wipe the tomato juice off of your sleeve, you glared at him. “Pretty sure?”

“Yes, when you had the nerve to be out with the flu and they stuck me with that idiotic temp, she accidentally transferred one of your calls to me. It was to confirm that you wanted to cancel your appointment with a laser removal company.” He balanced his chin on his palm and continued to give you a smug grin. He was enjoying this now and it was suddenly a lot less fun.

“What are you getting at detective Phillips?”

“So, what is it?”

“No way,” you took another large sip and blushed, turning away from him. “I’m not telling you.”

“You know they’re going to ask. I have to know. Is it a dolphin? An infinity symbol?…‘live, laugh, love’?” He gave a mock gasp and put a hand to his mouth. He was imitating your earlier jest about his scar. This was still a game to him and all you had managed to do was encourage it by baiting him.

“You know, I really am glad you’re having fun with this, but do remember I could go to prison. Give me that–” you snatched the binder back from him and he let you have it. “Next question. Whose place do we stay at, yours or mine?”

“That’s easy,” he kicked back in his chair and folded his hands on top of his chest. The action made you realize just how long he was. Between his broad shoulders and impressive calves, he barely fit in the chair. It had to be the alcohol talking. “We stay at mine,” he said simply, drawing your gaze from his body.

“Why wouldn’t we stay at mine?”

“Because I live at Central Park West. And you no doubt live in some squalid little studio apartment full of houseplants and a dusty, lonely, wine rack that you never use, because it’s for guests you never have.” He waved his hand as if imagining it and your jaw dropped.

You stayed quiet and closed the binder placing it in the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him. The small bursts of moments when Max wasn’t being an asshole, it was easy to forget how real this was. He was charming and you both threw it back at one another so easily that it felt like a game. But when his real nature came roaring back to life and his dig against you was just a tad too deep–well, you didn’t want to play anymore.

“What are you doing? We have more.”

You sucked the rest of your drink down and put it on the edge of the tray for the attendant to take.

“We should get some rest.” You said flatly, pulling the thin airline blanket up over your shoulder. “Knowing my mother, she has a big dinner or something planned.”

“Wonderful,” he said, folding his hands across his chest as he settled back into his seat.

The two of you stayed quiet for the majority of the trip. You frequently looked over your shoulder to see if he was even still next to you, as he didn’t make a sound when he breathed. It was unnerving but no doubt had something to do with him being undead. Did he even need to breathe? You had certainly seen him do it. Was it an act? Fuck all of this was going to send your family over the edge.

The last time you pulled back your silk, airline stamped eye mask, Max wasn’t in his seat. His table tray was pulled down and sitting on top of it was a small black velvet box. You looked around but he was nowhere to be seen.

Your fingers traced the shape of the box gently before you picked it up and pried it open. The ring that sat inside was stunning. It was gold, with a few small diamonds in the band on each side before leading up to the main piece–a large teardrop ruby rimmed with more diamonds. You weren’t sure if the red stone was meant to be a joke but regardless, it was actually very pretty.

It slid over your finger in a perfect fit and you watched it sparkle in the sunlight from the window over your shoulder. Despite your frustrations, you had to admit, Max Phillips continued to be full of surprises.

–

Seeing Max rattle in his cramped seat while the puddle jumper took you from Juno to Sitka brought you more joy than it should have. His broad shoulders were folded in on themselves as and he was glaring straight ahead like finding a fixed point on the wall would keep him from committing murder. You knew the flight wouldn’t be long, and after the amount of Bloody Marys you had consumed on the last plane, you were too buzzed to care.

As soon as your feet stepped down off of the stairs and onto the tarmac, you saw your family, waving and jumping on the side of the airstrip with a 'welcome home’ sign. Oh boy. Here we go.

“Chad! Talk to me, champ.” Max said loudly and you turned around to see he had put in his Bluetooth. It made you roll your eyes and you didn’t bother to wait for him as you started towards your relatives.

Your mother was soft and sweet and the joy you felt as she squealed and threw her arms around your neck couldn’t compare to any other kind of happiness. She smelled like home and fresh baked bread, like holiday candles and clean laundry–things that made you think of home. She pulled back to look at you like you had grown so much since she last saw you, despite being practically the same, and you laughed as she kissed each of your cheeks.

“Oh, I missed you!” She said, hugging you again before passing you off to your grandmother.

“Missed you, too, Mom. Hey, Nana,” you said as you stooped down to hug the older woman.

Your mom paused and pulled you back close enough to sniff the air in front of you. “Honey, have you been drinking?”

“Oh–” you leaned back and shook your head, which was a mistake as the world spun just a little bit. “Of course not. There was a guy on the plane and he–”

“We don’t care about any of that,” Your grandmother waved a hand to stop your mom from continuing to make a fuss over you. “Where’s your man??”

You stopped breathing for a moment as you were suddenly reminded that you were lying to the people who loved you the most. With a bite of your lip, you looked over your shoulder and gestured to Max who was slowly making his way over to you and still talking on his earpiece.

“That’s him, the one in the suit.”

“Oh, my,” your mom said, lowering her welcome sign and taking in the sight that was your boss and now assumed lover.

“You’ve been keeping that from us for five years?” Nana said as she elbowed you in the ribs and your mother glared at her. “He seems a bit overdressed.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing down at your leggings, warm boots, and well worn over sized sweater in comparison to Max’s custom blue suit and silk tie. You hoped to god that Max had brought more suitable clothes for what was supposed to be a relaxing family oriented week in Alaska. “He does, doesn’t he?”

“Chad–I think I lost you. Can you hear me? Hello? Helloooo? Shit.” Max tapped the device in his ear repeatedly as he looked around like he would be able to see where there would be better signal. He had yet to acknowledge either you or your family and you clenched your fists at your side. 

“Honey,” you said and Max had the audacity to hold up his finger to you as he continued to turn in a half circle. “Honey.” You tried again and finally you raised your voice curtly, “Max!”

“What?” he hissed and you reached up and took the earpiece out of his ear. It took everything you had not to turn and chuck it into the harbor. You gestured to your mom and grandmother and Max’s face changed into his large and inviting smile.

“We agreed not to bring work onto this trip, it’s family time, right?” You raised an eyebrow and he glared at you. “This is my mom and grandmother,” you gestured to them, keeping a firm hold on his Bluetooth and almost daring him to try and get it back.

“You won’t get any reception on that thing anyway, dear,” your grandma waved to Max and then around to the vast landscape. “Too many trees.” She took a few steps over to him and gave him a hug like he wasn’t a complete stranger. You had to give Max props, he hugged her back and managed not to look entirely uncomfortable as he silently worried she was going to wrinkle his suit. “Now, do you prefer to be called ‘Max’ or ‘Satan Reincarnated’? Because we’ve heard it both ways.” She laughed as she patted his chest and smiled up at him.

“Nana!” You looked at her wide-eyed and Max grinned from ear to ear. How was it that the elderly managed to get away with saying the most inappropriate things?

“Oh, have you?” he glanced at you and you felt your face get hot. “Max is fine. As long as I can call you Nana.” He continued to offer that grin that you knew to be his trademark salesman smile but it made your grandmother positively beam.

“Of course!” she said, patting his chest again and adjusting his pocket square. You ran a hand through your hair wanting to scream.

“Shall we?” You interjected and grabbed your suitcase with one hand and your mother’s arm with another. The two of you walked pointedly towards the edge of the pier and she looked at you with parental concern.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reassured with a shake of your head, slowing down for Max and your grandma could catch up. “I’m just tired.” If you continued to lie this much you were certain your nose was going to grow pointed.

Your mother helped the elderly woman down the ladder that connected the main strip to the edge of the pier where the family speedboat was parked. The chill off of the water made you shiver, it was definitely coming up on winter time and with the constant overcast came icy waters and snow. Max was just lucky it wasn’t summer time as the non-stop sunlight would have been an issue.

Looking over the ladder and feeling your body sway without even being on the water, you were starting to regret the amount of drinks you had had on the plane. You put a hand to your lips as a small amount of indigestion came up to the middle of your throat. Max stopped beside you and held his hand out expectantly.

“I’ll take my headset back, thank you,” he snarled and you ignored him. “Are you going to be sick? Pull yourself together–”

“Pull myself together? Pull m–” you shook your head and slapped the small device into his hand. “Unbelievable, you’re unbelievable.”

“This is going to be a long fucking week,” he said, looking at the boat as your family settled in. “I’m not getting in that. I cannot get these wet. They’re Armani.” He gestured to his shoes and you vowed in that moment that if you did wind up vomiting, it would be on those shoes.

“Hence the boat,” you gestured. It was the only way of getting to the island that the tiny town resided on, you were happy to make him swim but somehow you doubted that would go over very well with your family. “Either you climb down or you can stay here and I’ll see you in a week–”

“Fine. Fine.” He stopped arguing and climbed down the ladder, hopping the last few rungs to land firmly on the pier. He held up his arms as you passed down the suitcases and tossed his shoulder bag to him and he placed them in the back of the boat. “Are you coming?” he added impatiently as you leaned heavily on the railing at the top of the ladder.

“Give me a minute,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I told you to eat something. You’re drunk–”

“I am not.” You argued with him, straightening your posture and turning around to climb down the ladder. You were going to prove him wrong even if it meant that you landed on your ass. It was simple, all you needed to do was put one foot down in front of the other and keep a tight hold. Rinse and repeat until your feet were firmly planted on the wooden boards–simple.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart,” Max said, and you didn’t have to look to know he was staring up at your ass. “Those leggings are nice–are you wearing a thong?”

“Oh my god, shut up, Max,” you paused and leaned your head against the ladder, wanting to both strangle him and dive into the pier and let the ocean take you far away from the week ahead of you. After a few moments, you regained your sense of self and took a few more rungs down.

“Almost there,” he encouraged and you let out a heavy sigh. “There ya go–annnnd, congratulations. I am now five hundred years old.”

“Good for you, old man,” you quipped and tried to push passed him. Your boot caught on one of the loose boards and there was nothing to catch yourself on as you started to tumble. Despite refusing to admit that Max was right, maybe you should have eaten something. Your desperate attempt to forget your current situation was about to land you in the middle of the freezing gulf. You heard your mom gasp from the boat but instead of hitting the water, Max’s arm shot around your waist and pulled you back against his chest with ease.

You stumbled and grabbed the front of his suit coat as you tried to turn around and he tightened his grip. He looked down at you with a grin that was much different than the one he had been giving your family. “Got ya.”

“Nice going, Max!” your grandmother cheered and you knew there would be no living with him after this.

“Thank you,” you said curtly and tried to move from his arms but he didn’t release you.

“What, no kiss?” he smirked, keeping his voice low enough that your family couldn’t hear him. “I did just save your life.”

“Let. go. of. me. Max.” You said through gritted teeth and you braced for him to force a kiss on you for the sake of your family, but to your surprise, he released you. The way he watched you as you climbed into the boat, all dark eyes and wide grin, sent a shiver down your spine.


	4. The Story & The Sleeping Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your mom has a lot of things planned for your homecoming. You introduce your family to Max and break the news of your engagement/how he popped the question. And of course you figure out how you’re supposed to make this whole one-bed-situation work…

Compared to New York, Sitka was a tiny blip on the map in the middle of nowhere. It was its own island right off the mainland and the entire town was nestled between snow capped mountains and the blue waters of the Alaskan Gulf. You rode in the backseat of your family’s pick up next to Max as your mother talked his ear off about how wonderful it was to have you both here. Max nodded even though she couldn’t see him and he kept glaring at you for some reason.

As soon as you parked outside of your family’s home, the large two story colonial on a pretty good chunk of land, he slammed the truck door and smacked your arm.

“Ow! Max, what the hell??” You put a hand over your arm and looked at him, lowering your voice and making sure your family didn’t notice.

“All the small businesses back in town have your last name on them–”

“So? My family has lived here for a long time.” You tried to stay nonchalant, but he wasn’t having it.

“What are you, some kind of Alaskan Kennedy?” He threw his hands in the air. “Pair that with this massive house and property–you didn’t tell me you were rich.”

“I’m not rich,” you said. “My parents are rich.”

Max scoffed as you turned away from him and started taking your suitcases out of the bed of the truck. “That’s exactly what a rich person would say.”

“Listen,” you sighed, putting your purse over your shoulder. “I don’t know why it matters. It’s not like we’re friends who share our secrets. And honestly, knowing you, if I told you my family had money, then you would have found an excuse to pay me less.” You gave him a look that dared him to argue with your logic and he glared at you in return. “Now smile, my mother’s coming.”

Max slapped on a fake smile as your mom and grandma approached you both and offered to take a bag. The four of you started over the bridge that connected the road to the town with your family’s property. Even from here you could see lots of people milling about on the front deck, in the windows of the home, and it was clear that there was some kind of get together happening.

“Mom,” you said cautiously. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, just a little get together,” she waved away your concerns with a smile and a shake of her hand. “Family and friends–we’re just so glad that you’re finally home!”

When she walked away, Max turned around and the look on his face was almost worth suffering through whatever welcome home party your mother had planned.

“A party??” He hissed and you shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess. What would you like me to do about it? Come on,” you shooed him forward. “Stop dragging your feet. My grandma is moving faster than you.”

–

The house was buzzing with friends from all over town and the majority of your family, even some of the more extended members that you hadn’t seen in a very long time. You knew it had been awhile since your last visit, thanks to the man standing next to you, but you couldn’t believe how quickly your mom managed to throw this all together. Party planning had always been her strong suit.

The tables were lined with fresh oysters and fish caught from the marina and other snacks and finger foods typical to that of a potluck. And despite the fact that you had sobered up since the plane, the wine that sat on the drink table was calling your name. Music played gently in the background and people laughed and conversed and shook your hand as you and Max made your rounds once your suitcases had been dropped in the spare bedroom.

Max shook another stranger’s hand and let his fake smile fall as the other person walked off. Surely his jaw was getting tired from so much fake politeness. He came up behind you and put a hand on your waist, keeping up appearances, as he lowered his voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this? The house, the family fortune, the whatever-the-hell this is?” He gestured around the room and you rolled your eyes.

“How could I? We’ve been talking about you for five years.”

“Okay, enough,” he moved his hand to your elbow as you started to walk away and you turned to face him. “This has to stop. The constant bickering–people need to think we’re really engaged and at least, ya know, like we like each other? We’re supposed to be in love, remember?”

“I can do that,” you put a hand to your chest, every word that came out of your mouth was dripping in sarcasm. “I can play the part of the doting fiancee, that’s easy. What’s going to be hard is convincing everyone that you can, because that would require you to stop eating children’s souls for a week.”

“Really? Vampire insults? Unbelievable.” He threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. “When are you going to tell them we’re engaged?”

“I’ll tell them when I’m ready. I just–Dad?”

You looked up as your father walked into the room, a highball glass of whiskey in his hand as he looked you and Max over. His face was pleasant enough but you could still tell that, without even speaking two words to him, he was already disappointed. But that seemed to be the relationship you had always had with your father, a relationship built on disappointment and exasperation. Usually you were the latter, and he was the former.

“Hi, honey,” he said, putting one hand in the pocket of his slacks and looking at Max. He had more gray in his hair than the last time you saw him, a few added pounds around his belt, but overall he was the same man you had always known. He leaned in and gave you a fatherly kiss on the cheek before rocking back on his heels and looking your cohort up and down, slowly. “This must be Maximus.”

“Max,” your boss corrected, holding out a hand. Your father looked at it with disgust and made no move to shake it, making Max drop it after a few awkward moments. “Just Max is fine.”

“So, Maximus–”

“Max.”

“Do you,” he gestured between the two of you. “Date all of your assistants? Or just my daughter?”

“Dad–” you said with shock as your eyes widened.

“I, uh,” Max said, putting his hands in his pockets and mirroring your father.

“Is this what you gave her instead of a promotion?” He added and you could feel the tension in your neck as you balled your fists at your sides. For the first time since you had known him, Max was at a loss for words as he watched the slightly buzzed older man insult you directly in front of him. Your dad took his silence for agreement and nodded. “Good talk–I think I’ll get a refill.” He swirled his glass in a small circle and walked back through the threshold of the kitchen.

Max gaped at you and raised both eyebrows. “Wow.” He gave a low whistle and shook his head. “Charming man.”

You cursed under your breath and stormed after your father, leaving Max behind in the dining room with the rest of the guests. There was no way he was getting away that easy. You knew this was bound to happen but you hadn’t expected it within the first hour of your arrival. When you caught up to him, he was putting more ice in his glass and you were thankful that no one else was in the direct vicinity.

“That was one hell of a first impression, dad. Really, good job.” You clapped your hands slowly and he turned around to face you.

“What the hell, honey?” He said, making a gesture out towards the other room. “You show up here after all this time with the man that you supposedly hated and now he’s your boyfriend?”

“We just got here,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Can we wait two god damn seconds before we throw the kitchen sink at each other?”

“You know what this looks like, right?” He gave you a hard stare and you dared him to say it. “He wouldn’t promote you so you decided the best way to the top was to sleep with–”

“WOW.” You held your hand up to stop him. “Do not even finish that thought because that is beyond insulting and none of your business.”

“It is my business if my daughter is shacking up with a vampire–”

“I’ll have you know,” you held up a finger and glared at him. “That vampire in there is a highly successful and highly respected sales consultant. And I’m not ‘shacking up with’ anyone.” You did air quotes around the highly offensive and very outdated phrase. “Max is my fiancee.”

“What did you just say?”

The mixed look of pure shock and mild horror on your dad’s face was worth the abrupt admission. You steadied your shaking hands and set your mouth in a firm line. “You heard me. I’m getting married.”

You turned on your heel and didn’t stop when he said your name. Instead, you made a beeline for the den where most of your family and guests were seated on the couch and visiting. Your mom looked up as you moved to the middle of the room and held your hands up a bit, raising your voice to be heard over the party.

“Hey, everyone, can I have your attention, please?” You said and the music stopped and all eyes were on you. Your heart hammered inside your chest and you took a shaky breath knowing that this was quite possibly the most horrible decision you had made in your life. “I have a very important announcement–Max and I are getting married.” You could have heard a pin drop as your mother and grandmother looked at you in shock. Your dad stood in the doorway and you looked around for Max. “Yup. It’s true. Max? Honey, where’re you at? There he is!”

Max appeared in the doorway looking uncharacteristically sheepish and you gave a large, fake smile as you pointed to him. He looked at you in surprise and gestured between the two of you, saying through gritted teeth. “This is how you’re doing this?”

You nodded and waved him into the living room with a grand swoop of your arm. “Come on down here, pumpkin!”

He came and stood beside you and you slipped your arm around his waist as everyone started clapping and your mom stood up and started to cry happy-tears. A few other members of your family shouted their congratulations and your grandma slowly waddled over and went up on her tiptoes to kiss you on the cheek. She moved over and did the same to Max and you were thriving by the twinge of embarrassment that he was trying to hide on his face.

“Where’s the ring??” She asked excitedly and you fished in the deep pocket of your leggings and pulled it out to show her as a few people gasped in delight.

Max snatched it out of your hand and grabbed the fingers of your left tightly. “Oh, by all means, let me do it, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip as he tightened his grip on your hand and you fought the urge to pull away. He was pissed and you would definitely be hearing about this later. He slid the gold band and red ruby over your third finger and brought it to his lips for a chaste kiss across your knuckles–the action really sold it for your family as a collective 'aww’ came from the majority of the women.

“Tell us the story!” Your mom said, practically jumping up and down as she went to stand by your father.

“Story?” You asked and your grandma chimed in.

“The story of how he proposed! How a man chooses to pop the question says a lot about his character,” she nodded as if this was absolute fact and you and Max looked at each other with wide eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Ah, yes! The story! Of course.” Max put his hand on the small of your back and pushed you in front of his body, very clearly having no qualms about throwing you to the wolves. “Why don’t you tell it, honey? She loves telling this story.”

“I do?” You looked over your shoulder at him, mind racing with what to tell your family. The truth of basically demanding he ask nicely for your help in tricking immigration didn’t seem like something that would go over well. “Um, okay, well,” you let out a heavy breath and looked back, avoiding the eyes of your ecstatic mother. “Well, it was our first year anniversary. And I knew–I just knew that Max was dying to ask me to marry him.” The lie fell from your lips, becoming easier the more you spoke as the bullshit fell into place. “He just didn’t have the guts to ask me. He was scared. So, so, very scared–like a newborn baby bird–”

“Oh-kay…” Max said, pulling you back by the arm a little bit, not liking where this was going at all. “That’s not how it happened–”

“Oh, it’s not?” You challenged him and he shook his head.

“No, you see, the only thing I was scared of was her finding the box I had hidden–”

“Oh, the box!” You cut him off again and turned back to the crowd. “He made this beautiful little paper mache box and cut out tiny little pictures of us and glued it all over the outside. He was so proud of it. And inside that box was hundreds of hand cut heart-shaped confetti, glitter, flower petals and–

"And a note.” Max cut you off sharply as your family started to look confused by the clear clusterfuck of a story the two of you were weaving.

“Oh, that’s right. The note.” You said, trying to back him up.

“Yup. Underneath all of that…crap, was a note. With the address to a fancy hotel, a time, and a room key.” He looked around at everyone as if he was pleading his case. “Real Humphrey Bogart type stuff. Masculine.” A few of the men in the back gave a cheer of encouragement and you fought the need to roll your eyes. You put your hand on his chest and took over once again.

“So, I went to the hotel and when I got there, Max was already in the room–”

“Standing–

"Kneeling–

"Like a man–”

“On a bed of rose petals.”

“In an Italian made suit–”

“Holding a rose between his teeth–”

The two of you took turns simultaneously contradicting one another until you put your sneaker over his stupidly expensive Armani shoes and stomped on his toes, causing him to shut up with a wince.

“And he was choking back the softest of sobs. And when he finally caught his breath through the tears, he said–”

“Will you marry me? She said yes. The end. That’s it–that’s what happened.” Max clapped his hands together once to signify that the story was complete. And the two of you looked out at everyone else with a small shrug, awaiting their response.

“That…” your grandma started, leaning over to pat Max on the knee. “Was quite the story. Max…you’re so sweet and sensitive!”

You fought the urge to smack your forehead with the palm of your hand and instead said, “Anyone need a drink? No, just me? Great.”

“Wait, honey!” You grandmother said, stopping you in your tracks. “Let’s see a kiss! Give him a kiss!”

“Oh, Nana,” you groaned, and looked at Max who was suddenly staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights of your overzealous grandmother. You tried to give him a look of reassurance that said to just buck up and get it over with. When you finally offered Max your cheek, he got the hint. He gave you a very chaste, very quick, peck and there was an audible groan of disappointment among your family members.

“No! Not like that! A real kiss,” your grandma encouraged and your mother helped by clapping and nodding.

You and Max looked at each other slowly and you felt your stomach drop out from under you. This couldn’t be happening. You were about to kiss Max Phillips for the first time in front of your entire family. Did you honestly think that the two of you would be able to go the entire week without showing any form of affection towards one another? Maybe. Possibly. You had at the very least hoped like hell.

You expected him to be wearing his trademark shit eating grin but, to your surprise, he looked almost identical to how you felt. His lips were pressed in a thin line and his dark eyes seemed to be searching yours for something. Permission? An escape? Forgiveness for what he was about to do?

“Just do it.” You said, barely moving your mouth and speaking under your breath so your family couldn’t hear. “Make it quick.”

He nodded and his hands fell to your waist gently and slid around you, pulling you forward until your hands braced yourself on his chest. You took a deep breath and the action seemed to draw him in as he dipped his head to you, hesitating for a brief moment before pressing his lips to yours. His lips were smoother than you thought they would be and you awkwardly stared into his eyes as you stayed joined at the mouths long enough to satisfy your mother. Against your better judgement, and against the voice screaming in your head to shove him back, you closed your eyes and felt him tilt his head and do the same.

A quiet sigh of appreciation came from the living room crowd and the two of you slowly opened your eyes again and pulled apart. Max cleared his throat and mumbled a quiet 'sorry’ as he let you go, removing his hands from your waist.

Before you could analyze just what was written on his face, your grandma came over and hugged you both around the middle.

“I’m so happy for you two kids!” She said, giving you both a shake. Both you and Max put your hands on her shoulders and gave her a pat while you exchanged a look. Her happiness made you feel even worse about the fact that you were lying to her face.

–

From that point on it was easy enough to fake your exhaustion as an excuse to go to bed early and leave the party behind. According to your mother she had a whole weekend planned so if you went to bed early this time, it meant you were more rested for the next time. Joy.

Your mom opened the door to the guest bedroom and Max let out a low whistle as he took in the accommodations. The large queen sized bed, dark oak dresser, brick fireplace, and connected bathroom were nice and spacious, but the true beauty was in the double glass doors of the patio that looked out onto the shimery waters of the gulf and the snow-capped mountains along the horizon.

“This is so nice,” Max said, putting his hands in his pockets as he looked back at your mom. “Did you do the interior decorating all on your own?” He asked, causing your mom to blush and you to roll your eyes.

“Yes, actually!” She exclaimed, thrilled that someone appreciated her decorating abilities. She gave his arm a pat and looked at him fondly before opening the armoire and gesturing to the shelves. “Now there’s towels in here, and extra pillows–”

“And don’t forget this!”

Your grandma came waddling in with a folded quilt in her arms and a wide smile on her face. She happily thrust it into Max’s arms and he accepted it with a matching smile.

“And what’s this, Nana?” He asked and his use of her title made you clench your fists.

“It’s an old family heirloom. We always give it to newly married couples. It has magic powers.” She cupped her hand on the side of her mouth like she’s telling a secret.

“What kind of magic powers?” Max said, matching her tone and leaning forward like he was ready to receive all of the family gossip she had to offer.

“Well,” she nudged his arm. “We call it 'the baby maker’.” She said with a wink.

The look on Max’s face was worth the second hand embarrassment you were getting from your grandmother. You could tell he was fighting the urge to throw it into the fireplace, along with his hands for having touched such a thing. You admired his resolve though, as he held onto it for the sake of not being rude and gave your grandma the smallest smile he could muster.

“Wait,” your grandma continued. “Can you even have kids, Max?” She asked, unaware at just how rude and abrasive the question sounded out loud.

“Nana!” You said, feeling your cheeks redden and your need to disappear into the floor intensify.

“Now, mom,” your mother said, putting her arm on the old woman. “That’s none of our business–”

“I was just curious!” You grandma tried to defend her intrusiveness as your mother put an arm around her and shook her head in a silent apology to you and Max. “Neither of us are getting any younger–who’s to say I don’t want great-grandchildren?”

“Oh my god,” you put a hand to your forehead and closed your eyes tightly as your mother offered an apology with her kind eyes.

“Come on, they must be tired,” she blew each of you a kiss from the doorway, smiling to Max tenderly. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Max. We will get to know each other more tomorrow and the rest of this week.”

“I look forward to it,” Max said, politely and the two of them left, shutting the door with a soft click.

“Oh my god. Fucking. Shit–fuck. Christ,” you flopped onto the bed on your back and grabbed a pillow, putting it over your face and screaming into it for a few seconds. After removing it, you continued, “What am I doing? What are we doing?” Your voice matched the desperate look on your face as you leaned up on your elbow and looked at him.

“We’re doing fine,” he tried to sound reassuring but it failed. “This is just day one.”

“Exactly!” You threw a hand out and gestured to the doorway. “That– is only going to get worse. The longer we do this, the more of a chance we have of screwing up.”

“Or,” he countered. “The longer we do this, the better we get at it. Practice makes perfect,” he said, flinging the ‘babymaker’ quilt across the room with enough force that you laughed. “It’s not funny.” He said flatly as you got up slowly and started putting your suitcases on the bed.

“It’s a little funny,” you shrugged, unzipping the compartments.

“Who the hell makes such a thing?” He gestured to the innocent looking, handmade quilt on the ground and you continued to laugh quietly.

You pulled out a stack of your clothes and put them in the empty drawer of the nightstand, along with your phone charger, book, and the binder from INS. It was no brainer that you had packed the most plain pajamas that you owned; a black tank top and some sleep shorts. If you were home, or not sharing a bedroom with your boss, you usually slept naked. But there was no way in the fucking world that was happening.

Gathering all of your stuff to get ready for bed, you headed to the bathroom, not bothering to ask Max if he cared if you used it first. What you thought was your toiletries bag seemed way too heavy, and you looked at it in confusion before setting it on the dresser and starting to unzip it.

“What is this? I don’t remember this bag–”

“Wait. Don’t–”

Max tried to stop you as you lifted the top and immediately snapped it shut, letting out a small shriek. The bag was cold and the handful of ice packs on top had covered most of the items that made you want to puke. You had been his assistant for five years, you knew what Max was, and yet it still unnerved you to see his liquid diet sitting in bags in his carry-on as if they were nothing more than a stack of TV dinners.

He took the bag from you and zipped it shut again, putting it on the shelf in the linen closet where it would be less likely to be stumbled upon by your family.

“I figured, since it was a small town, you would prefer I not eat anything on two legs while we were here–considering they might be someone you know.” He said, not looking at you as he went back to his main suitcase and started pulling out his own items.

“How considerate of you,” you said, careful to keep your voice flat and he looked at you as if he couldn’t tell if you were being sarcastic. The truth was, you didn’t know either.

You took extra time in the bathroom, breathing deeply and looking at yourself in the mirror as you tried to rationalize the idea that you were still a good person. The idea of your mother learning this was all fake made you want to lean over and empty your stomach in the toilet, laying on the cool tile until you remembered how to function once again. The bedroom was so quiet that you didn’t know if Max was still there. Surely he didn’t plan on sleeping in the same room, right? But then again, how would you explain that to your mother? That your so-called fiancee and you couldn’t even stand one another long enough to share a bed? The idea of the smug look on your father’s face made you stand up straighter, wipe your eyes, and crack the door before peeking your head out. You could do this. It was just a week and the two of you would figure it out.

“Max?” The room was dark except for the soft, warm glow of the lamp on your nightstand.

“Yeah?” He asked. His voice, to your surprise, coming from somewhere on the floor.

“Don’t–” you swallowed hard and suddenly felt much too exposed. That was hardly the case, but the knowledge that Max was finally seeing you without a bra or panties made the innocent sleep shorts and tank feel like the most risque lingerie you had ever owned. Maybe you should sleep in a parka. “Don’t look, okay?”

“You’re kidding, right?” He scoffed, but when you said you weren’t, he sighed heavily. “Alright. My eyes are closed.”

You opened the door, clicking off the bathroom light and padding barefoot across the hardwood to the large bed on the other side of the room. The sheets and comforter had been turned down and half of the pillows were gone, as Max had used them to make his own pallet on the floor at the foot of the bed. The fact that he hadn’t turned it into an argument, felt like a weight had been taken off of your shoulders and you heaved a full bodied sigh as you settled under the blankets and sank down into the mattress.

“Nice ass,” he said from the floor and you thought about throwing something at him, but when you didn’t, the both of you let out a laugh.

You switched off the light and stared up at the ceiling with your hands folded on your stomach, listening to the soft sound of the wind and the quiet, far off noise of the water on the shore. This place had never felt much like home, even though it was the only home you had ever known. And even though your body was so exhausted it hurt, your mind wasn’t ready to toss in the towel yet and let you rest.

“Can I ask you something?” You said into the dark and Max’s voice came back to you in a hum of acknowledgement. “What my grandma said earlier–is it true? I shouldn’t–nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“Can I have kids?” He chuckled quietly and you were thankful he couldn’t see the heat you felt on your cheeks.

“Yeah,” you whispered, and he continued.

“No,” he said flatly and you heard him shift on the floor, but you suddenly wished you could see his face, as if this glimpse into what may have been left of his humanity would have made any of this easier. “No, I can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” you started, but stopped yourself.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your hands, picking idly at your cuticles in thought. “It just seems like the thing to say in these situations, ya know?”

Max was quiet for a long time and you didn’t know if he had gone to sleep or if he was just done talking. You started to roll over but his voice stopped you mid motion.

“There’s rumor that it can happen though,” he said, with a slight pause.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“How–?” You started to ask and you immediately wished that you hadn’t.

“Apparently, a vampire in Los Angeles had sex with his human wife in their hot tub–it got everything warm enough to work–”

“Oh-kay! We’re done talking about this.” You cut him off, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see, and his laugh was deep and genuine. Although you didn’t particularly know if that story was bullshit or not, the sound of a laugh that wasn’t forced or just another tactic of him trying to make a sale, made you smile. You nestled your head against the pillows and contemplated the consequences of your next words carefully, ultimately deciding you didn’t care. “Goodnight, Max.”

Like it or not, the two of you were in this shit show together. For now, Max Phillips was the only friend you had. Maybe the act of simple conversation and pleasantries would make it easier on you both.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He said, and you drifted off to sleep, much faster than you expected.


	5. The Insult & The Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max overhears something that hurts feelings that he swore he didn’t have. You have a talk with your father that doesn’t go well but goes about how you expected. And despite all of the bullshit, Max gets to meet the family dog–who hates his guts.

You thought you were dreaming as his voice reached your ears and seemed to be speaking to your subconscious. Had you fallen asleep at the office? Surely not. Regardless, Max Phillips’s voice was entirely too loud and it was entirely too early. With a groan, you put the pillow over your head and buried yourself deeper into the mattress, hoping against all hope that he would just disappear.

“Chad! Talk to me, baby! How’ we doing? What are we thinkin’? You wanna make money?” He paced around the room in a pair of black sweats and a tight, white v-neck, with his cell phone to his ear. “Because I know I want to make–Chad? Hello? Shit.” 

“Maaaaax,” you groaned again from under the pillow as he continued to curse the lack of service. He sounded like the cliché salesman that he was. In his mind, he was Tom Cruise and if he started screaming ‘show me the money’, you were going to drown him in the gulf. 

“Can you hear me? Chad? Fucker. No, not you–”

“Max!” You sat up and tossed one of the decor pillows at him, missing by a long shot in your sleepy state. “Go outside!” You pointed towards the door as you hissed your command and he glared in your direction and waved his hand like he wanted you to shut up. 

Max opened the bedroom door, shutting it hard behind him as he hurried down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out the back door into the back yard. It was another dreary, overcast day and he cursed himself for not grabbing his sunglasses, as the tiny amount of light peeking through the clouds was enough to make him wince. The wind blew off of the water, but he didn’t notice the added chill as he walked in a small circle and tried to get anything to come through on his cell. 

“Hello? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” 

Max all but stomped his foot as he pulled his phone away from his ear and shook it in both hands angrily. This was all your fault. He was going to lose his biggest sale of the year and it was because of you. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had some part to play in this, considering he let his citizenship lapse, but you were the one who dragged him all the way up into a country full of bears and snow and pine trees that refused to give him a fucking break or an ounce of reception. The sheer audacity of it all. 

He ran a hand through his hair and knew it was not its usual neat and coiffed style like he liked it–he could thank tossing and turning on the floor for that. It wasn’t like he needed sleep, he enjoyed the action, but it was no longer necessary. But the knowledge that you were ten feet from him, breathing softly, with the occasional endearing light snore–that’s what has kept him awake. Fuck, you smelled so good. 

“Get it together, Max,” he grumbled to himself and hit the red button to hang up his phone a little harder than was needed. 

Six more days. That’s all he had left. Six more days of keeping it together, putting up with your family, and then the two of you could elope as soon as you were back in New York and he would be able to stay in the States. Simple, flawless, a good plan that made him feel like the fucking genius that he knew he was. 

His stomach growled and he put a hand over it and cursed quietly. That’s why you had smelled so good last night. He needed to eat. He put his phone back in his pocket and stretched his arms above his head, popping his shoulder with a pleasured noise of relief. With an added deep sigh, he let himself back into the house and made a beeline for the stairs, not wanting to have to face your grandmother alone if she happened upon him.

“This is your fault!“

The accusatory tone of your mother made Max pause on the bottom of the stairs, hidden by the half wall that covered one of the railings. Since arriving, your mother had been the perfect beacon of hospitality, so hearing her upset like this piqued his curiosity. He wasn’t sure that the woman had an angry bone in her body, but this disproved his theory.

“My fault?” Your father bit back at her and Max leaned against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. 

“Yes, none of this would have happened if you wouldn’t have pushed her away.” Your mother said and it was obvious by her tone of voice that she was on the verge of tears. "I only get to see my only child every three years and it’s because of you.”

“So, I pushed her into the arms of that monster?”

Max flinched and felt his stomach drop as your dad all but spit the word out into the air. Monster. Sure he had been called worse, but somehow, it was different this time. 

“Don’t you dare,” your mom cut him off and Max imagined her shaking her finger at him. “Max has done nothing to you–”

“Yet–”

“He has been nothing but nice to us–”

“Yeah, for a day! He has tormented her for five years, honey! And you don’t think it’s odd that she suddenly brings him home and tells us they’re getting married?”

Tormented. Max would hardly call the way he teased you tormenting, but perhaps you were exaggerating for the sake of your family. Regardless, the idea that you had painted him as a cold and unfeeling tyrant left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“You can’t say those things. If my baby girl trusts him, then so do I.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and Max gripped the railing, impressed at the resolve she held against the tornado of apathy that was your father. “This is the first time she has been home in almost a year and I will not let you ruin this for me. If she’s happy then isn’t that all that matters?”

Max waited with baited breath and your father stayed quiet so your mother continued.

“I don’t want to miss out on the rest of her life because you decided she wasn’t living it the way you wanted. This is our only daughter and our future son-in-law–I don’t want to miss out on family holidays, on their lives together, on the possibility of grandchildren!”

“Is that even a possibility?” You dad retorted. “You’re telling me you’ll be fine with all of this bullshit if he makes her like him? If he turns her.”

Max felt his knees lock up and he stumbled down a step, catching himself on the railing and cursing quietly. He bent his legs slightly and held his breath, waiting to see if either of your parents had heard his clumsiness. He hadn’t even entertained the idea of making you a vampire–he had barely convinced you to fake-marry him. Well, if he even called that convincing, you had blackmailed him with a promotion but that was neither here nor there. 

A tiny growl brought Max from his thoughts and he looked down to a small dog at his feet, baring its teeth and muzzle punching Max’s pants leg as it aggressively sniffed him. He waved his hands in the direction of the animal and tried to shoo him away but the dog pursued him. Having already missed part of the conversation your parents were having, he figured lingering any longer would increase his chances of being found eavesdropping.

“Go–fuck,” Max said quietly, lifting his leg as the fuzzy orange and white creature lunged at him. “Shh, hush.“ He tried but that only resulted in an accusatory bark. "Fine. Fine– I’m going!” Max hissed as he started back up the stairs at a quick pace. The dog hopped up each step behind him in clear pursuit up to the landing and into the bedroom. 

Max flung the door open as the dog gave a dramatic yipping noise at him and continued the chase. You sat up and pushed your hair from your eyes with a look of confusion on your face at the cartoon-esque sequence of events that was unfolding before you. 

“Max, what the hell?” You said, trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes as he slammed the door and jumped into the bed beside you. "Oh my god!” You clutched the blanket to your chest but for once Max paid zero attention to your state of undress as he positioned himself behind you as if you were a human shield. 

“It’s going to fucking bite me–shit!” 

Max cursed as the dog jumped on the bed after him with ease but gave up its goal of biting the stranger in favor of snuggling into your lap. You smiled and looked down at the animal with a fondness as it licked your hands and jumped up to give you kisses on your face. 

“Kevin!”

“Kevin? That little ankle biter is named Kevin?” Max rolled his eyes and let go of your arms slowly in favor of moving over to the other side of the bed. The action put more distance between him and the dog and it made you roll your eyes

“He’s my mom’s dog.” You ran your hand over his coarse, fuzzy orange fur and traced the tips of his pointed ears as he relaxed in your lap, snuggling into the comforter. “He’s not going to bite you. I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” Max said standing back up and grabbing his shoulder bag from the cabinets full of linen. “Dogs hate me–well, most animals in fact.”

“Let me guess, bat’s don’t?” You laughed but when he didn’t tease you back or even acknowledge that you had cracked a joke at his expense, you knew that something was wrong. “Max?” You asked, keeping your voice even as you moved the dog from your lap and onto the bed beside you. 

Max stayed quiet, opening up the bag and looking through his various containers that you now knew held his meals. His tight white undershirt showed just how broad his shoulders were and you could tell they held most of his tension. Did you touch his arm? Did you really care if there was something wrong with him? Or was this just in your nature to comfort anyone close to you that seemed to be struggling? He picked out one of the containers and had you not known what was in it, it would have looked like a raspberry flavored protein shake. 

“Are you okay?”

Against your better judgement, you had slipped out from under the blankets and padded across the bedroom to put your hand on his back. He looked over his shoulder at you, eyes briefly hovering on the tops of your breasts peeking out from your tank top, before averting his gaze. You had to hand it to him, he only gawked at you half as long as he usually did. 

“I’m fine.” His tone was flat, matter of fact, and you knew he was lying. 

“Was it Chad? The Phallicite sale?–”

“The what?” He looked confused for a moment and then realized what you were talking about. “Oh, no, I can’t get a fucking signal up here to save my life. I gave up. Thought about chucking my cellphone in the gulf, but then,” his grin returned and it made you relax slightly. “I’d lose all of the nudes I’ve taken over the years.”

“There he is…” you laughed and shook your head, walking back to the nightstand for your ponytail holder. “As if you wouldn’t have your nudes saved to a backup hard drive. I know you, Max.”

“Of course you do…” He watched your ass in the small black sleep shorts as you pulled your hair back into a bun. The soft curves of your arms and the smooth planes of your back that was left mostly uncovered by the thin straps of your shirt–your skin, all of it, was kissable. And you were right there, your presence in his mind almost palpable, and yet so far out of reach. He peeled his eyes from you and shoved the shoulder bag back onto the shelf before grabbing a towel and a change of clothes. “I’m going to take a shower and–yeah..”

He left his statement open-ended as he held up the container of blood and walked into the bathroom and shut the door without looking at you. Maybe if he would have had the courage to look, he would have seen that the disgust that he thought would be on your face…wasn’t there.

–

You left Max to take care of his business and got dressed. Throwing on a pair of leggings, an oversized sweater, and the slip on shoes that sat under the edge of the bed. The smell of coffee and the idea of a muffin, or any of the baked goods you knew your mother would have waiting, lifted your spirits a little bit. Before you even entered the doorway however, your dad turned the corner with his hands in his pockets and a sheepish smile.

“Good Morning, honey,” he patted your arm and kissed your cheek.

“Morning, Dad,” you gave him a small smile. If he was going to try to be pleasant, then you could try too. “Is there still coffee?”

“Yeah, there’s plenty. But uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck and let out a huff of air. “Can we–can we talk?”

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest as you followed him through the front room and out onto the porch. The deck had always been one of your favorite things about the house. It wrapped around the entire place and had plenty of comfortable chairs and a porch swing and you had spent many hours listening to the sounds of gulls on the water with a book balanced on your lap. It had been a long time since you had partaken in such a peaceful indulgence though, and it was mostly due to the man that stood beside you. 

The water splashed against the rocks and you hugged your warm sweater to your body and hoped he would make this quick. You probably should have been more concerned with what he had to say but after years of knowing these kinds of talks never went well, the least he could have done was let you get a piece of fruit and a cup of coffee. 

“Your mother seems to think I owe you an apology.” He started and you gave a bitter laugh.

“Oh, so this is because mom is making you and not because you think you’ve done anything wrong?” You shook your head and started to turn back towards the door. “Good talk, dad–”

“Now wait a minute, would you just wait a minute–” he held out a hand and sighed. “Let me finish. I agree with her. I was out of line yesterday." 

You turned back to him and leaned your forearms on the railing of the deck, clasping your hands in front of you. "You were." 

"But can you blame me?”

“What are you talking about?" 

"I’m worried about you,” he said, dropping his hands to the side and sitting in one of the cushioned chairs. “I’m worried about whatever this is with you and your boss.”

“His name is Max.”

“I know what his name is.”

“I guess I don’t get why you have such a problem–”

“A problem? He’s been making your life a living hell for five years and we’ve heard about it,” your dad said as he gestured into the house like he was pointing at the man in question. “I worry about your future if you marry a man you so clearly despise. If you marry someone for the wrong reasons, you’re going to regret it.”

“My future?” You put a hand to your chest and scoffed. “You mean the future you want for me.”

“Honey–”

“No,” you shook your head and kept your voice firm. “I’ve told you I’m sorry and I don’t know how many more times I can say it. I’m sorry I don’t want the family business. I’m sorry I don’t want to stay in a town where everyone knows my business. I’m sorry you didn’t have another kid that could make you proud, but you got me–”

“I never said I wasn’t proud of you–”

“Well you haven’t said you were, either.” You snapped at him and the words tasted sour in your mouth. “I like New York. I’m happy there. I’m happy in sales and making my own way, my own money.”

“And you’re happy with Max?” He raised an eyebrow and you bit your lip. “I just don’t want you getting taken advantage of.”

“Because it’s dangerous in the big city for a girl?”

“Don’t start.”

You both glared at one another. His patriarchal ideas of what was best for his only daughter had always been a fight. And you were fairly certain it would be a fight for the rest of your time on Earth. “We’re only here for six more days. Try to be nice to him, please.” You turned on your heel and walked back to the door.

“You didn’t answer me!” He called back, clearly frustrated.

“No,” you sighed knowing you were out of earshot, and kept your voice low and for yourself. “I didn’t.”

–

You didn’t hear Max come down the stairs as you poured your coffee and aggressively sprinkled the sugar into the cup. Max raised an eyebrow as he watched you stir it with equal ferocity and a quiet chuckle fell from his lips. 

“I’m sure it isn’t as good as what our normal barista can do, but I don’t think you need to punish the coffee.” He leaned his ass against the counter and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I mean–unless it deserves it.”

You ignored him and got down another cup from the cabinet, pouring him an equal portion and speaking without much emotion in your voice. “Cream and sugar? It’s full fat I’m afraid, you’re just going to have to chance the extra calories.”

“Cream and sugar is fine,” he raised an eyebrow and watched as you made his. “You want to tell me what has your panties in a knot?”

“Don’t talk about my panties, Max,” you grit your teeth and turned around to hand him his coffee and you almost dropped the mug. 

For the first time in five years, Max Phillips wasn’t wearing a pretentiously tailored, questionably bespoke suit. His hair was still damp and combed back from his face in a lazy attempt to mimic his normal style. He wore a dark blue plaid button down over another white undershirt that hugged his chest and alarmed you with how much you wanted to reach out and touch it. His jeans were cut to fit him nicely and probably cost more than your entire wardrobe, but they were still jeans. He looked relaxed, and this fresh from the shower, fuck, he smelled good. 

“Everything alright?” He asked, his lips tilting up in a grin. He knew exactly what caused you to pause and he used your surprise to brush his fingers against yours as he took the mug from your hand. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook your head. “I’m fine.”

He took a sip and made a face but didn’t say anything as he held the mug in one of his large hands and continued to look at you skeptically. “Are you going to tell me what provoked your wrath on the coffee?”

You bit your lip and leaned against the counter opposite from him. You could tell him. Tell him that your dad was suspicious of your engagement, that he didn’t approve of your career path, that he didn’t think you could handle yourself on your own on the other side of the country–but Max wouldn’t have cared about all of that. Would he? You took a big drink of your coffee and shook your head.

“Are you going to tell me what upset you this morning?”

His face fell as he realized you had picked up on his mood in the bedroom after eavesdropping on your parents. He shook his head and set his mug on the counter, gently. “No.”

“Well, then neither am I. See how this works?” You gestured between the two of you.

“Do you enjoy arguing with me?”

“About as much as you enjoy it." 

Both of you bit back at one another and whatever comradery the two of you had felt last night was fading as the two of you chipped away at it. It made you feel tired, weighed heavy on your shoulders, and despite knowing that Max didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of your anger, it was hard to stop yourself. Max pushed away from the counter and started to pull you into his arms and you braced your hands on his chest and looked at him with wide eyes. 

"What the hell are you doing?” You asked, unable to keep the accusatory tone from your voice.

“Your mom and grandma are on the deck and they’re looking at us.” He mumbled through a fake smile as you turned your head and confirmed he was right. The two women waved at you and beckoned the two of you outside to join them for breakfast. “If they see us fighting, they’re going to know something is wrong. Come on. Come here–there ya go–”

“Max–ugh, fine.” You let your elbows buckle against his chest as he pulled you into a one sided hug and rested his chin on your shoulder and gave a content hum. He was right, and you hated it.

“There we go. Such a good fiancee.”

You didn’t have to see his face to hear the smirk that his lips held and you huffed an aggravated breath as he gave you a squeeze. “I hate you so much right now." 

"I know, I know, sweetheart.” He chuckled and slid a hand down your back and gave you a few playful smacks on the ass. “See? Isn’t this nice?" 

As you felt his hand on your buttcheek, you jumped and all but growled his name, which made him laugh again. "Max. Max?” You said through gritted teeth. 

“Yes, honey?" 

You went up on your tiptoes and spoke with your lips next to his ear, knowing that to your mother and grandmother it would look like the two of you were exchanging a kiss. "Take your hand off my ass or I will cut your balls off in your sleep, mmkay?" 

The laugh that Max let out was just as genuine as the one you had heard the other night and you fought with everything you had to not smile because of it. "There she is.” He gave your butt one last pat before releasing you and grabbing his mug to lead the way out to the deck and continue his infuriating charm of your family.


	6. The Dog & The Heart-to-Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max has another run in with Kevin that winds up putting the both of you in a very…awkward situation. The two of you have your first talk that doesn’t involve just ripping each other to shreds with insults. Is Max opening up? Are you? Are either of you prepared for what is going to happen when those walls start coming down?

You hated running. You hated it with every fiber of your being but you wanted to be breathless, you wanted your lungs and your limbs to ache, you wanted to punish yourself. So this morning when you rolled over and saw that it was still dark out, you had pulled on wool socks, insulated leggings, and an old hoodie. Tip-toeing around Max’s sleeping form with your sneakers in hand, you laced up on the porch and watched the fog roll off the water.

You could do this–one foot in front of the other, rinse and repeat. You put your iPod in the small pocket of your leggings as you took off, but not even the fast paced music could drown out the thoughts that refused to stop coming. Fuck it. The path that you took along the gulf and through the woods felt familiar and you were glad for it because it meant you thought less about where you were going and more about your situation.

Max was winning over your family one day at a time and the way your mother’s face lit up when he put his arm around you made you feel sick. She just wanted you to be happy. And if you said you were in love with Max Phillips, then she believed you and supported you. And it was all a lie.

“Fuck,” you cursed quietly as you started to pant and you shook your head, changing directions down a smaller path.

Despite everything horrible that no doubt lay on the horizon of this half assed plan, it hadn’t been as terrible as you had imagined. When he wasn’t making your life a living hell or having you keep track of his daily planner, Max… wasn’t that bad. He was charming, but you already knew that, that wasn’t the interesting part. What made you pause was every time he laughed, he made a joke, or he did that god damn grin that caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle gently. It was confirming what you thought you always knew–the business tycoon and prince douchebag that he donned every day like a suit, was all an act.

Then there was your dad. You knew you shouldn’t be surprised, but he held narrow-minded thoughts about Max and his vampiric nature, and he was still holding out the hope that you would throw in the towel and move back home. Your dreams meant nothing because they weren’t achievable to him. Being born in a town like Sitka meant you grew old with your highschool sweetheart, a white picket fence, and at least two children balanced on your hip–no thank you. That would never be you, you longed for the unconventional, and the way your dad saw it, choosing Max as your fiance went far beyond unconventional. It was down right crazy.

At some point you had turned back towards the house, on the path that led out of the woods and around the barn at the edge of the property. Your mom had been decorating a setting up for a get together for the last two days and you were not looking forward to the potluck and barn dance that she had no doubt invited the entire town to. Of course you had no one to blame but yourself–if you came home more than every couple of years, maybe she wouldn’t make such a big deal about it.

Sweat dripped down your temple from your hairline and was chilled almost immediately by the cold autumn air. Your legs were sore and your stomach growled as it reminded you that a hot cup of coffee and a warm muffin was far superior than this self deprecating jaunt.

You put your hands on your head to open up your aching lungs and breathe deeply as you walked back to the house. This was going to be the easiest part of your day and you wanted to soak up every last bit of it. Hopefully everyone would still be asleep so you could take a shower and drink your coffee in peace.

–

Max had been awake when you quietly left this morning and it had been incredibly tempting to reach his hand out and grab your ankle. You would have probably tripped and it would have been hilarious, but he refrained. Christ, he was off his game lately. As the door clicked closed and he listened to the fading sound of you going down the stairs, he opened his eyes and rubbed his hand down his face.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he folded his hands on his chest and looked up at the ceiling.

Another night of restlessness and listening to you sleep quietly ten feet beside him. He had made sure to eat before going to bed last night and yet you still smelled delectable. It was driving him crazy, he felt insatiable, like a man half crazed, and it worried him. He had been a vampire for a little over a decade, he had control of himself, but you made him want to bury his face between your–

“No, nope, no,” Max shook his head and sat up, stretching his arms above his head and letting out an exasperated groan.

In five years he could count the number of times you had seen his fangs on one hand, and he knew for a fact you had never seen his true face. The one that morphed when he was pissed, when he lost his last shred of humanity, when his features pulled together and his snarl was permanent. His eyes would go yellow and his skin would darken, and he once had it described to him as going full-blown Buffy–and that wasn’t far from the truth.

He could continue to sit here and argue with himself about how much he didn’t want you, or he could get in the shower and wash away whatever these feelings were. He didn’t have a better idea yet, but maybe one would come to him. Great ideas were always hatched in the shower, right? Right.

–

Max turned off the water and was no closer to finding a solution to his current problem. Now he was just wet. Wet and frustrated. He threw back the curtain and shook out his hair, shoving it back from his face as he looked around and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“Towel? Towel. Where’s a fucking towel?”

He looked at the rack, the counter, and the wicker laundry basket and there was nothing that he could even use as a towel. Fuck. He stepped out onto the rug and wiped his feet as much as he could so he wouldn’t fall on his ass on the tile. He thought he heard the sound of the door and froze, but nothing followed. Then he remembered, the armoire, the one with the goddamn baby maker blanket, there were towels in there.

He cracked the door and leaned his head out, looking around the bedroom. He called your name, but no one answered. Letting out a deep breath, he put his large hand over his groin, just in case, and hurried out to the cabinet. A high pitched bark made him jump as he turned around and cursed loudly, making eye contact with your horrific fuzzy demon of a dog.

“Shit!” Max glared and pointed at the Shiba with the hand that wasn’t currently cupping his dick and balls. “Listen, I just need a towel–you little fluffy bastard–fuck!”

It continued to bark at him, hopping slightly with each noise and the action put it closer to him. Max involuntarily took a step back each time and he swallowed the lump in his throat as the beast started to growl.

Before he was turned, he loved dogs. His family had owned one when he was a child, but that had changed when he got back from Romania. It was as if the creatures could sense something was wrong with him, something not human was staring them in the face, and they hated it.

“Look,” Max continued to try and reason with the orange canine. “I’ve never once thought about eating you. That should count for something, right?”

By now the animal had backed him back into the bathroom and he let out a frustrated growl of his own through his nostrils as he looked around for a weapon of some kind. His eyes fell to your cordless hair dryer on the edge of the sink and he couldn’t help the smirk that overcame his face.

“Bingo.” He scooped it up and grinned as he aimed it at the dog and flipped it on. The handheld device whirrrrr’d to life and the dog leaned back away from it as the warm air rippled its fur away from its face like it was in a wind tunnel. “Yeah–that’s what I thought. Who’s your daddy, now?”

Max dropped his hand from his crotch to hold the dryer with both as he aimed it like a six-shooter and took a few careful steps out of the bathroom towards the dog.

“That’s it. There ya go,” he chuckled as he aimed the dryer and made the dog switch places with him. “That’s a good boy, that’s a good, dumb dog,” his voice dropped and cooed at him like a baby as the dog pranced backwards towards the bathroom to avoid the stream of air.

As soon as the dog crossed the threshold of the bathroom, Max lunged forward and grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut. He let out a yell of triumph as he effectively locked the beast in the bathroom and ensured his own safety. He spun around to toss the hair dryer on the bed and instead collided with your naked body as you walked in from the deck, your headphones still in your ears from your run.

In the time it took Max to realize he didn’t have a towel, you had come home and back into the bedroom. Max was nowhere to be found and it was still dark so you had grabbed a towel, stepped onto the covered balcony, and stripped off, leaving your sweaty jogging clothes in a pile. Your loud music thumping in your ears had left you oblivious to the cowboy western showdown that was happening in your bedroom. And now you were pressed against your boss, both of you as naked as the day you came into this world and not only did he hit you with force, but he was very wet and very slippery.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you said, as your headphones fell from your ears and you started to fall. You would have welcomed the bruised ass because it meant you would have stopped touching him. What you didn’t expect was for him to put his arm around your waist to keep you from falling. All it wound up doing was making him fall to the ground with you in a tangle of limbs and an ungraceful thud.

“Max??”  
“Fuck!”

The two of you looked at each other with wide eyes and open mouths. You were suddenly hyper aware of your breasts pressed flush against his chest as your hands found his shoulders for balance. He caught himself as much as he could with his hands on either side of your head but you still felt… something pressing against the inside of your thigh–and it was much larger than you had imagined it would be. Not that you had ever thought of such things…about Max fucking Phillips.

“Why are you naked?!” He yelled as he finally found his voice.

“Why are you wet?!” You yelled back as you slapped at his damp chest and tried to push him off of you. “Get off me!”

“Gladly!” He snarled as he rolled off of you. You scrambled for the towel that you had in your hands before he caused you to drop it and covered your breasts and the apex of your thighs. “Ugh, goddammit!” Max picked up the baby maker blanket to cover himself and once he realized what it was, he tossed it aside and grabbed one of the pillows off the bed.

“Get your dick off of my pillow! I use that to sleep!” You gestured to it as he gripped it tightly and pressed it firmly to the front of his waist.

“Okay, well it’s either this or I drop it!” He snapped back and you groaned.

“Why are you wet and naked in my bedroom?” You asked.

“Our bedroom–forget it,” he growled and threw an arm out to gesture towards the bedroom. “I showered and there were no towels–and then the dog–”

“Kevin?” You looked at him like he was crazy and looked around but the dog was nowhere to be found. You looked at the shut bathroom door and quickly opened it as the dog gave a yip and sprinted out of the bathroom and out the slightly cracked bedroom door. “What is it with you and this dog??”

“He hates me–”

“Oh, yeah, my mistake. You’re right,” you put a hand to your chest and gave a mock gasp. “Barely got away with my life just now.”

“Oh, shut up!” Max rolled his eyes at you. “Go shower, you stink!”

“Fuck you, Max!” You gave a frustrated groan and made sure the towel covered your ass as you started towards the bathroom.

“Nice tattoo!”

He got one last jab in and you realized he could see the ink that he had only guessed about previously on your ribs. You stuck up your middle finger at him before you slammed the door so hard you hoped it didn’t wake anyone up.

–

You and Max avoided one another for the rest of the day. Which was easy to do as your family was content to keep you both busy helping to prepare food and decorations for the party. Your mother insisted it had nothing to do with your engagement and that she had had it planned even before you and Max had given them the good news. Good news…if that’s what she was calling it.

So that’s how the day went, with you and Max on opposite ends of the table, in separate corners of the room, refusing to make eye contact with one another. Without even looking at him all you could think about was how soft those broad shoulders actually were. You were surprised how muscled his thighs were and how they lead to what was even the most surprising, which was his—nope. No. Definitely not. You refused to think about Max in that way and the fact that the thought made you blush like a schoolgirl, pissed you off even more.

You decided to go to bed early and when he followed you upstairs you almost stopped and asked him what the hell he was doing. But your mom was watching you both with so much adoration that it made you take Max’s hand as you told your parents goodnight and retreated to the comfort of your own space.

After an awkward dance of taking turns using the bathroom to get changed and trying not to look one another in the eye, you laid your head down on the pillows with a loud huff. The soft crackle of the fireplace brought a warmth and a glow to the room that made your shoulders relax slowly. You should have thanked Max for making it but you didn’t, it was just better to say goodnight and go the fuck to sleep and forget this day ever happened.

“Goodnight, Max.” You said bluntly, pulling the covers up over your shoulder and closing your eyes. When he didn’t respond, you opened them back up but stayed still.

Max had heard you but as he folded his hands on his chest and stared at the ceiling, he said quietly, “So…naked.”

You sat up and looked in the direction of his spot on the floor. “What was that?”

“I said, you were so naked. I saw… everything.” He grinned even though you couldn’t see and you groaned and laid back down.

“No you didn’t–”

“Oh, yes I did.”

“We’re not talking about this–”

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? You saw my dick.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes you did,” he insisted. “I saw your tits–well, felt them–”

“Max enough! Good. Night.”

The two of you were silent again for another few minutes. The fire popped and the crickets chirped and you knew he was just waiting for the right moment to open his mouth again. And sure enough, without fail, he said the next best thing to piss you off.

“So, what’s the beef between you and your dad?”

“I honestly would rather talk about how you saw me naked.”

Max chuckled. “As tempting as that is, I want to know. You two seem to really hate each other.”

“I’m sorry but that question isn’t in the binder. Please play again.” Your voice was that of a sarcastic game show host but he was relentless.

“You really think INS won’t ask about family drama? Because I think–”

“Max. Not this. I–please.”

Maybe it was the ‘please’ that finally made him drop the topic, but you were thankful regardless as you thought about the conversation you had with your dad yesterday and your throat became tight. Your eyes started to burn and you rubbed them furiously. This was not a topic that you wanted to discuss with the man on the floor, not now, not ever. A silence fell between you again and when Max cleared his throat you prepared for him to continue to press the issue, but he didn’t.

“I like the psychic network.” He said flatly and you opened your eyes.

“What?”

“We need to start learning the binder right?”

“I guess…”

“Well, I like the Psychic network. And no, not in a ha-ha, look at those idiots believing in that trash, kind of way. I actually kind of enjoy it. I mean vampires are real, maybe other shit is too, ya know?” He shrugs and lets out a heavy sigh. “Um. Let’s see. I took piano lessons in the sixth grade. Lynda Carter was my first crush when I was nine. I don’t like giving flowers to women or having them in the house because they remind me of funerals. I try to read Wuthering Heights every year at Christmas–it reminds me of my mom. My dad thought it was trash but that wasn’t the point.” He paused and let out a sad chuckle and you bit your lip gently as you listened to him. He let out a heavy sigh and waited and when you didn’t say anything, he prompted. “Your turn, sweetheart.”

“I…sorry. I’m just processing,” you said honestly and he chuckled again.

“Take your time.”

“I also took piano lessons when I was little, but I was so terrible I quit. My fingers aren’t long enough,” you said quietly as you flexed them in front of you as if to show him. “My first record my dad gave me was Lionel Richie. Uhh..I haven’t slept with a man in eighteen months.”

“Wait–”

“Shut up, you said it was my turn.” You cut him off before he could draw attention to that particular factoid. “The tattoo on my ribs–they’re birds, just your typical basic girly silhouette type but I got them when I was sixteen. They’re mid-flight to remind me that I don’t want to stay here for the rest of my life. That no matter what anyone says, it’s okay to leave and live my own life.” You swallow hard and blink quickly, feeling like an idiot for continuing to get emotional in front of the one person you were pretty sure didn’t have emotions. “And despite the front I put out there, I went in the bathroom and cried the day that Evan called me a poisonous bitch and reminded me that I was never getting promoted. Because then my dad would be right–I took a risk, made a big deal of blazing my own trail, and I have nothing to show for it.”

Max lay patiently with his hands on the edge of the blanket, playing idly with the fringe as you told your facts to him. His eyebrows furrowed together and his heart felt like a rock within his chest. As if he didn’t already hate Evan before, your confession made him want to beat the little prick down 5th avenue. He quietly committed everything you just told him to memory, like you had done moments before when he was the one making his confessions.

“Um…are you still there?” You asked quietly.

He realized he had paused for too long and the meek tone in your voice made a lump form in his throat. “Y-yeah. I’m here.”

“Say something, please.” Your voice sounded small even to you but you know he heard you.

“You really haven’t slept with anyone in eighteen months?”

The laugh that bubbled from your chest broke whatever tension had been in the air before. It felt real, and that’s because it was. The question was so on par for Max that it felt good to know that despite what had happened in the last few days, it was still him. He was still the same man.

“That’s all you took from that? Of course it is.”

“I’m just saying, that’s a long time.” He said, holding out his hands in self defense.

“Yeah? Well, I’ve been a little busy. My boss is just a tad demanding.”

“He sounds like a prick,” Max scoffed.

“He’s not all that bad,” you shrugged without hesitation and the statement made both of you pause as the awkwardness returned once again.

“Who–um,” Max coughed, changing the subject. “Who’s Lionel Richie?”

“Seriously?” You sat up and looked at him with wide eyes. “You know 'hello’? 'Dancing on the ceiling’? 'All night long’??”

He shook his head and looked up at you as you crawled to the end of the bed to look at him. “Sorry,” he shrugged. “Not ringing any bells.”

You looked up and silently cursed yourself for what you were about to do but you decided to throw caution to the wind. You fought back the blush as you very quietly started to sing the chorus and bob your head. “All night long. All niiiiight. All. Night. Long. All niiiiight.”

Max leaned up on his elbow and looked at you with a slack jaw and wide eyes. His expression made you lose the fight with your blush as you felt your cheeks burn red and you wanted to crawl under the bed.

“Is that you singing?” Max teased.

“Maybe! I just can’t believe you don’t know who Lionel Richie is–”

“I know who Lionel Richie is, sweetheart. I just wanted to hear you sing it.” He grinned and you gaped, but it felt good and before you knew it you were laughing again. The laughing only intensified as Max started singing, too, making sure you didn’t feel too singled out. “Everybody sing, everybody dance. Lose yourself in wild romance..”

“We’re gonna party–” you joined him and the two of you both bobbed like there was a beat somewhere to be heard.

“Karamu..”

“Fiesta..”

“Forever..” He paused and tried to make his voice go higher. “All. Night. Long!” His voice cracked and he shook his head, “I haven’t been able to sing that high since my balls dropped.”

You fell into a fit of giggles and flopped back against the pillows on the bed. It felt good to laugh for real for the first time in this hellacious trip, and you would have never guessed it would have been because of Max. When you gave a snort, your hand flew to your face to cover your mouth and Max laughed even harder. He had a good laugh, it was warm and deep, and not at all superficial or fake like it was when he was trying to make a sale.

Eventually the laughter died down, and you both stared up at the ceiling in silence. Except this time, the silence didn’t feel overwhelming or awkward, it was soothing.

“Sweetheart?” Max asked quietly and you felt your breath catch at his tone.

“Yeah, Max?”

“Don’t,” he let out a heavy breath before continuing. “Don’t take this the wrong way…but you are a beautiful woman.”

You put your knuckle to your lips and failed to suppress the smile that came with his words. He had said something he had never said before. He wasn’t talking about your tits, or your ass, or the way your pencil skirt complimented your curves, no, this was different.

“Goodnight, Max.” You said quietly as you rolled on your side and tried not to think about how hard your heart was beating.

“Goodnight.”


	7. The Offer & The Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when you thought everything was going to work out, your family throws a wrench in the works. Your mother throws the shindig for the town and uses it as an excuse to throw you an engagement party. You genuinely have a good time with Max and...well, one thing leads to another.
> 
> So, who knew this fic would take over my life--its just FUN. UGH. And I think you guys are enjoying reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it.

His lips were so soft. That's all you could think about as he leaned in and kissed you gently, finally. The two of you had been dancing around one another all week and you thought if he didn't kiss you soon, you would explode. And to know that he felt the same way, was such a relief on the heavy weight that had been sitting on top of your heart since he knelt in front of you and begged for your help.

His hands made you feel small as he used one to cup your cheek and the other to graze a trail to the small of your back. He whispered your name, your real name, not one of his many nicknames for you, against your mouth and it made your breath hitch. The action drew him in the last few centimeters and his lips were searing as you tilted your head and took his tongue greedily. You shoved your fingers into his hair, that perfectly styled hair that you desperately wanted to mess up and he groaned in response.

"Max.."

As you moaned his name out loud it broke the mirage and you sat straight up in bed. Your chest heaved, your heart raced, and you looked around in the dark bedroom as you realized you were in bed dreaming. You were dreaming about Max Phillips. Fuck. Shit. Fucker.

The light of the morning was peaking through the blackout curtains and you leaned up on your knees to look over the edge of the bed. The man in your literal dreams was sound asleep, and apparently none the wiser about the fantasy you had just experienced. And you thanked your lucky stars that he hadn't heard you moan his name. You couldn't even imagine what he would have said if he had.

You bit your lip as you thought of how kissing him felt, well imaginary him. Imaginary or not, it was good. Your nipples were hard and your breath still shaky as you pulled the sheet to your chest and suddenly didn't want him to see you as a frumpy mess, fresh from sleep. You grabbed your hairbrush and quickly ran it through your hair, dabbed on a smidgen of lip gloss, before tossing the tube back on the nightstand, and gave your cheeks a few gentle slaps to get the blood flowing and bring some color to your complexion. When you felt slightly more attractive you laid back down, letting your hair fan out on the pillow like a storybook princess.

A loud knock came from the other side of the bedroom door and you sat back up with a gasp.

"Room service!" Your mom called from the other side and you cursed under your breath as your heart sped up frantically.

"Max!" You hissed and snapped your fingers. He gave a quiet groan and shook his head.

"Breakfast for the happy couple!" Your mom continued to call and you cursed again before grabbing a pillow off the bed.

"Max!" This time when you hissed his name, you chucked the pillow at the floor and it slapped him in the face, making him bolt upright and blink quickly.

"What? What? Ow--"

"My parents!" You pointed at the door, keeping your voice an urgent whisper. "J-just a second!" You called to the door as you pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed. "Max, get up here!"

"Fuck, okay, fuck," Max scrambled to his feet and climbed into the bed with you, shoving his legs under the covers. You were thankful he was wearing sweats and a t-shirt otherwise this would have been even more awkward. He paused as he looked at your face and his eyes fell to your lips. "Are you wearing makeup?"

"What? No. Of course not--shut up." You waved him away and gestured behind you instead. "Spoon me!"

"What??" He looked at you with wide eyes.

"Spoon me. I said spoon me. Make it look natural." You slapped his arm as you turned on your hip, giving him your back. As soon as his arm came around your waist, you felt what was clearly his erection pressed up against your ass and you squealed and jumped forward, whipping around to face him. "What the hell is that?!"

"I'm sorry! It's morning!" He glared at you like that made all the sense in the world.

"What do you mean--it's morning??" You asked, before your mouth fell open a little. "Ugh--gross."

"Are you guys okay?" Your mom called.

"Just a second!"  
"Just a second!"

You and Max said in unison as you continued to have a stare down over your current predicament. Finally you relented, shoving the baby-maker quilt down between you both to act as a divider between your ass and his dick. He chuckled and you wanted to smack him. His arm went back around your waist and he pulled you back against his solid chest, both of you sitting up and calling for your mom to come in now that you were settled.

When your mom turned the corner of the door, Max pressed a chaste kiss to your hair to really sell it, and paired with your dream from earlier, it made you lean into him more.

"Aw, how sweet," your mom cooed with a smile as she walked the breakfast tray into the room and sat it on the foot of the bed.

"Hmm, smells amazing," Max complimented.

"Mom, you didn't have to--"

"Of course I did! That's what moms do when their kids are home." She smiled and looked up as your dad walked in.

"Knock, knock," he said with an awkward little wave. "Got room for one more?"

"Oh, my god," you put your hand over your eyes and fought the urge to bury your face against Max's chest. "Can we not do the Brady Bunch family reunion, please? We just woke up."

Max chuckled and his chest rumbled behind you as he put his hand over yours on your blanket-covered lap. Fuck, he was getting good at pretending. Your dad held up his hands in self defense and shook his head.

"Now, your mother had a great idea and she has been dying to break the news to you, so, I'm here for support, because I think it's a terrific idea--"

"We want you to get married here on Friday!"

Your mother blurted out and clapped her hand over her mouth as she broke into a wide smile and tried to contain it. She practically giggled as she looked at the two of you expectantly and your dad put his arm around her and gave his own version of an encouraging nod. Max stiffened behind you and gripped your hand so tightly it started to hurt.

"Wait, what?" You asked, your voice less steady than you would have liked it to be.

"No--we...we don't want to impose," Max tried but your mom wasn't listening.

"Well, you're going to get married anyway, so, why don't we do it here--so, we can all be together and grandma can be a part of it?" She looked at you both with a mild desperation in her eyes that told you that she had already made up her mind. Her heart was officially set on this plan.

"Oh," you said, quietly and looked at Max before back to your parents. "Oh, no. We couldn't possibly. It's Grandma's birthday on Friday and we don't want to ruin that--"

"Yeah, it's Grandma's birthday--" Max tried to help.

"I've had 84 other birthdays!" Your grandma came in, clearly on a mission after listening to the first part of the conversation. "I don't need another one. And it would be a dream come true to see my only grandchild get married! Please, say you'll do it!" You and Max hesitated, shaking your head slowly, and she took another step towards you both. "...before I'm dead?"

"Of course!"  
"Sure!"

You and Max said together, quickly reassuring her and making her somber expression fade into a smile. Both her and your mother clapped and jumped up and down in place together.

"We will take care of everything!" Your mom reassured you both. "That way you can relax--and you can get married like we did, in the barn!"

"It's a family tradition!" Your grandma added.

"Oh, boy, I've always wanted to get married in a barn," Max said with so much fake enthusiasm you fought the desire to elbow him in the ribs.

"It's a sign! Oh, Max, you were meant to be together and be a part of our family!" Grandma said with wide eyes.

You all shared an awkward smile and your mom was so giddy that she was practically vibrating.

"I know I should leave you alone--we're just so excited!" She came around to the other side of the bed and hugged you both, kissing you on the forehead before moving and doing the same thing to Max. He froze for a moment before giving her a kind look and you both watched her move back towards the door. "Tonight is the bonfire and dance so most of the decorations are already done. And tomorrow we can go get you a dress and Max a suit! Ah!"

"Alright, come on, honey, let them eat breakfast." Your dad gave you both a small smile and ushered the two women out the door as they continued to giggle and talk quickly about their plans.

When the door clicked shut you sat up in bed, pulling yourself from Max's arms. You put your head in your hands and groaned. "Oh, my god. Oh, my god. When my mom finds out that this whole thing is a sham, she's going to be crushed. And--and my grandmother is going to die!" You gestured wildly to the door that they all just vacated through.

"It's okay," Max sat up, looking at you with a worried expression. "She's not going to find out--"

"And my father!" You felt tears burn the corners of your eyes as you imagined telling them all the truth. "What the hell was that about??"

"Your mom probably just got him all worked up about it. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Max! Oh, my godddddddd," you put your head in your hands and made another muffled groan of frustration. "We can't--"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he leaned into you and put his hands on your back, rubbing small circles as he tried to calm you down. "They're not going to find out. This isn't permanent. We're going to be happily divorced before you know it. All of this will be behind us. It'll be fine." He waited for you to lift your head from your hands as he leaned his chin on your shoulder and continued to rub your back. "Okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded, looking at him. His face was so close to yours, if you just leaned in you could reenact the dream you had earlier. "We're gonna be fine."

"Exactly, we're gonna be fine."

Both of you paused for a moment. His eyes were so brown, but the warm kind of summer brown of rocks at the bottom of a stream when the sun hits the water--you could get lost in them if you let yourself. You cleared your throat and found yourself unable to look away.

“Are you trying to hypnotize me again?” you asked quietly, part of you already knew the answer.

“You know it doesn’t work on you, sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“Honestly?” Max said, raising his eyebrow. “I have no idea.”

Another awkward silence fell between the two of you and you cleared your throat loudly before moving to your knees and heading for the tray of food to occupy yourself. “Well, I need coffee."

You used the excuse for breakfast to break the conversation as you poured two cups from the travel carafe that your mom had filled. It smelled delicious as you took a bite of a pastry and added cream and sugar to your cup. If you would have been brave enough to turn back around, you would have seen Max watching you quietly with a fond smile.

\--

The dance was a hit, as anything planned by your mother usually was. The barn was decorated with matching oak tables, rustic tablecloths, and winter flowers of bluebells and baby's breath. Since it was fall in Alaska, propane fueled large open room heaters were placed strategically around the edges of the room, so as not to distract from the decor but to also make it as cozy as if it was being held in the actual house. People were drinking, laughing, and dancing to the old style doo-wop from whatever local band your mom had managed to find. The more you listened, the more you found yourself slowly swaying in place--they were pretty good. So, why weren't you having a good time?

"Refill?"

You looked up from your seat as Max stood over you and held out an already opened, cold beer. You lifted the one in your hand that was still almost full.

"No, thanks. I'm still working on this one."

He took the empty chair beside you and put both beer bottles on the table, looking around. "Your mom did a hell of a job--I can't believe she got all of this done so fast."

"She has always been quite the suzy-homemaker. Plus I'm pretty sure half the town owes her a favor." You nodded, looking from the band to him.

"What is she--the mob boss of Sitka?" Max laughed and took a drink.

"No," you chuckled as well. "She's just a kind woman that is the first one to offer a helping hand if you're in need."

"Hmm, seems she passed that gene down," Max said, looking you over.

"Stop it," you scoff, taking a drink from your own bottle and looking up to see your mom approaching.

"Well??" She said excitedly, shuffling forward on her tiny heels and opening her arms to gesture around her in a half circle. "How is it?"

"It's beautiful, mom," you smiled as she clapped her hands together happily at your approval. "The string lights are my favorite--there's so many of them."

"I knew you'd love them. I think it makes it look like a fairy tale," she sighed wistfully, holding her hands to her chest and looking up. "Now, obviously we will have a focal point, an archway of some sorts for you and Max to stand under--and the chairs can be moved closer so we can get a better view--"

"Mom," you stopped her as she started to ramble. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Well, I just want it to be perfect," she said cupping your cheek and looking at you lovingly. "It's not every day my only child gets married, and," she turned that same look to Max and you swore you saw him blush. "Gives me a new son-in-law."

"It really is nice, I don't know how we will ever thank you," Max played it off, giving her one of his trademark smiles and she waved away his concern.

"Oh, nonsense! But I did have a couple of questions--" she left it open ended as both of you raised an eyebrow at her.

"Fire away," Max said.

"Now, everything is catered but, do you--" she put her hand on the table and leaned in so she could lower her voice. "Do you have any...dietary restrictions?"

"Mom!"

"What? It's an honest question--"

Max laughed into his beer as he sat it down and shook his head. "No, I have that taken care of. And I can eat anything, just in small quantities."

"Interesting," your mom nodded slowly. "Now, is there anyone you want to invite, Max? Friends, family--vampire friends?"

"Mom, seriously--" you groaned, putting a hand over your eyes and leaning on the table. Max continued to be a good sport.

"No, just me," he shrugged and the sympathetic look your mother gave him made you want to sink into the floor.

"Alright, well, I'll check back in a bit--you guys should go dance!" She leaned over and gave you each a peck on the cheek before moving on to converse with her next table of guests. You lowered your hand to find Max looking at you with a very wide grin that made you glare at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head and took another swig. "She means well."

"Yeah, I know but she--what are you doing?" You looked up as Max stood and straightened his suit jacket before holding out his hand for you.

"You heard your mother--let's go dance." He jerked his head towards the designated dance floor and you continued to gape at him.

"You can't be serious?"

"You should know better than anyone, I'm always serious--besides, I like this song. Now, come on, chop, chop." He snapped his fingers twice and wiggled his hand a little, beckoning you to take it.

"Hands stay above the waist," you said sternly as you slipped your hand in his and his fingers closed around yours.

"No promises, sweetheart," he smirked and pulled you behind him slowly through the small groups of people and out into the middle of the dancefloor.

If someone had told you a month ago that you would be where you grew up, dancing with Max Phillips, you would have laughed in their face. And yet, here you were. Respecting your demand, his hands stayed above the waist, in fact, they hardly touched you at all. He held your hands in his and bopped his head and body to the music as he swung you out and then pulled you back in with each blare of the trombone or key change in the song. For all of his swagger in the boardroom, his charm during a presentation, his suave demeanor on a sales call...Max Phillips was a very bad dancer. He looked like a fool. Like a complete and total buffoon, as he continued to move and swing you around until you found yourself laughing out loud.

"What are you doing?" You said over the music and he looked confused.

"Dancing?" He said simply and you laughed harder as he lifted your hand above your head and made you spin under your own arm.

"You're terrible!" You laughed and he looked insulted for a minute before laughing as well.

"I want to make sure you know what you're getting!" He gestured to his body in an up and down motion and you rolled your eyes.

He spun you again and pulled you lightly against his chest. When you put your hand on his shoulder he squeezed the hand he was holding and did what you could only assume was a very modified salsa. He moved his hips and bent his knees and you mimicked him, tossing your hair back and laughing again. The action made him smile as he grabbed both of your hands and pulled you in and then pushed you out. In against him, and then back out at arm's length. Each time he repeated the motion, you shared a smile that made your heart feel a little easier. It only confirmed what you had come to terms with many times this weekend--Max Phillips was the only friend you currently had up here.

The song ended and when it changed to a very slow ballad your brain panicked. You started to pull away, to return to the safety of your seat and avoid slow dancing with him, but he kept a gentle grip on your hand. The action stopped your escape and you turned back to look at him hesitantly.

"No, stay--" he started, and then as if realizing how needy that sounded he shrugged. "We're supposed to be a couple in love, right? If we don't do at least one slow song, people will be suspicious."

"Max--" you said. He had a point. But as you bit your lip and thought about it, it still felt wrong.

"Hands stay above the waist, honey." He held up his free hand in defense. "You have my word."

When you finally relented, his smile was so genuine, you couldn't help but return it. He put his hand on the small of your back, staying true to his word, as you put your hand on his shoulder. His other hand clasped yours gently and you both started the light sway with the tempo of the new song.

Dancing with him wasn't outwardly horrible. He grinned a lot, but he did that all the time. He smelled nice, having forgone the overbearing cologne in favor of something that didn't singe the insides of your nostrils. His black suit jacket was undone, and he wore a simple white dress shirt underneath, much more appropriate than his ridiculous bespoke outfits. As if reading your thoughts in reverse, he cleared his throat and looked down at you.

"You look nice," he said, simply.

You looked down at your simple, purple dress with the lace cover and cinched belt and thought it looked pretty plain. But instead of arguing, you nodded and replied, "Thanks. So do you."

He spun you out gently and pulled you back in, his hand going back to being a comforting weight on your back. As you looked up at his face, his eyes, his lips--all you could think about was your dream from this morning. You fought to keep the heat from your face as you looked around the party once again. Anywhere but Max.

You caught eyes with your mother, who was standing with your grandma, watching the two of you fondly. Her warm and loving eyes glittered and you knew if she was crying now, she was going to be a mess come Friday. And even more so when she found out it was all over and you were getting divorced shortly after such a happy event. A happy event that she had busted her ass on throwing together in a matter of days.

The back of your neck broke into a cold sweat and instead you looked at your grandma--that was a mistake. She was so excited to see her only grandchild get married that she had cancelled her 85th birthday. But the two people she had made the sacrifice for were the only ones that knew it was a lie. Your chest suddenly felt tight, you gripped Max's hand and when he said your name you looked up at him like a deer in headlights.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his eyebrows narrowing.

You used your free hand to quickly wipe away the wet trail on your cheek, not realizing that you had started crying. "Nothing--it's nothing."

"Okay, that's clearly a lie--"

"I can't--" you stopped dancing and suddenly couldn't draw a full breath. "I can't breathe. I need a minute--"

"Okay, okay," he nodded, dropping his hand from your waist and keeping a gentle hold on your other one as he pulled you from the dance floor. "Come on."

You lowered your head as the tears continued to fall and you shuffled behind him through the throngs of people.

When you broke the threshold into the cold night air, you could almost feel your lungs loosen from whatever vice held them. You let go of his hand and laced your fingers above your head and tried to breathe normally. All that managed to come out were shaky and uneven streams of air. You walked in a small circle in the dark and tried to ignore the fact that Max was looking at you like a crazy person. Untrue to his normal self, he stayed quiet, letting you pace in silence and that was almost worse than the teasing and witty remarks that you had come to expect.

"What?" You snapped at him, looking from him to the soft glow of the windows of the barn, to the dark woods, before repeating the process.

"What, what? You're the one having a panic attack. I was giving you a min--"

"I'm not having a panic attack. I'm fine." You said bitterly, continuing your circular path.

"Okay, sure, this is normal--"

"I'm a monster!" You said, finally stopping to turn and look at him. The tears flowed freely and you quickly wiped them away, trying to be careful not to smear your makeup. "I'm a horrible person--I'm lying to the only people who've ever cared about me. My own family!"

"Plenty of people lie to their families--"

"Max, not now," you crossed your arms, hugging your body under your breasts. As the panic started to subside the chill from the night air started to spread over your bare arms, bringing goosebumps in its wake.

Max rubbed a hand down over his face and sighed heavily. "Here." He shrugged off his suit coat and handed it to you. You started to protest but instead you took it and mumbled your thanks before slipping it on.

You continued to wipe your tears silently as the muffled music of what was supposed to be your party came quietly through the doors and windows of the barn. Inside your family was inviting people to your sham of a wedding, working tirelessly to make sure everything was pretty and perfect, and instead of telling them the truth you were outside having a selfish moment of self pity with your partner in crime. Max continued to stare at you, but like the coward you apparently were now, you refused to meet his gaze, choosing instead to stare out into the darkness and the silvery gulf on the horizon.

"You're not a monster," he started again. "And trust me, I should know."

"Nice people don't do things like this," you huddled in his jacket and shook your head.

"Maybe not, but nice people choose to not let their bastard of a boss get deported. So, if anything, both things cancel each other out--" he held out his hands and shrugged. "If anything you're a neutral person."

"Wow," you laughed quietly as it seemed you had finally managed to stop crying. "If this is your version of a pep-talk, it sucks."

The two of you laughed together and you could see him smile in the moonlight. You felt better when he was around, you kept trying to tell yourself it was because he was the only one who knew the truth of what was going on, but you were starting to doubt the validity of that excuse. When he wasn't being the horrid man who signed your checks twice a month, Max Phillips was actually...kind of fun to be around.

You thought about your dream from this morning and about the fake kiss the two of you shared in front of your family. You thought about the way he comforted you during breakfast--much like the way he was now, and you thought about him singing on the floor of your bedroom. You finally realized you had been staring at him during all of these thoughts when he raised an eyebrow and finally spoke.

"What?" He asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Fuck it.

"Shut up." You took a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you as you kissed him--for real this time. Feeling him stiffen in front of you, you put one hand on his chest and the other on the back of his neck, your fingers playing in the edge of his hair. Suddenly his scent wasn't just on the suit jacket, it was all around you, and honestly, you didn't seem to mind.

Kissing Max wasn’t nearly the horribly cold, unfeeling experience that you thought it would be. He was warm, easy enough to achieve as long as he kept up on his smoothie routine, according to him. When you felt his hands come around your waist, you slumped against his chest and slanted your mouth against his. The moment his tongue entered your mouth, he made a deep sound and walked you backwards to push you against the side of the building.

The moment your back hit the solid wall, you felt his body against you, a solid weight that made you moan and pull him closer. It was just like the dream from this morning, only better. Much better.

He tasted you greedily, flexing his large hands against your hips before sliding them under the suit jacket so he could grab fistfuls of the lace of your dress. It wasn’t enough. Almost a week of dancing around one another, sleeping in the same room, having more meaningful conversations than you had had in five years--somewhere along the way, pretending to be a couple, stopped feeling like you were pretending.

“Max,” you whispered against his lips and that only seemed to spur him on more.

He slipped his thigh in between yours and you leaned into him, the movement allowing him to push one of his hands up under your dress. His thick fingers pressed against the apex of your thighs, and when he made contact with your underwear you heard his breath hitch.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice sounded gravely and strained.

You ignored him, carding your fingers through his soft, dark brown hair and pulling slightly. You kissed him again, bending your knees slightly to rub your core against the soft material of his slacks. Heat started to pool in the same spot as you continued to ride his thigh. His other hand moved up to cup your breast before making his way to slide his fingers to grip the back of your neck. When his erection brushed against the front of your hand, you both made a soft noise as he leaned into your touch and you continued to move against his thigh.

“It’s probably the alcohol,” you stupidly tried to justify your actions as you ran your hand down to grab his ass.

“Vampires can’t get drunk, honey,” he chuckled. “And you only had one beer...try again.”

“Smart ass,” you mumbled, closing the gap between your mouths again, moaning as he raised his thigh and gave you more, much needed, pressure.

The moment he took his knee away, your body leaned forward as if to chase the feeling of the warmth of his leg. His hand quickly replaced his thigh and slipped under the waistband of your panties, deft fingers separating your folds and finding your clit. The press of his fingers made you moan openly into his mouth and raise your leg up to his waist, giving him more access if he desired it.

He kissed you harder, an almost bruising mix of tongue and teeth as the two of you groped and grabbed like a couple of star crossed teenagers outside of a school dance. That’s when you felt it. The unmistakable pain of one of his fangs catching the edge of your bottom lip--like a sewing needle being jabbed into a pincushion.

“Ow!” you gasped, yelping quietly and pulling back as you pressed your tongue to the wound and tasted copper.

He snarled, an almost animalistic rumble falling from his mouth as he yanked his hand from your underwear and turned his head away from you. You could see enough of his profile to know that it was no longer his normal face. His features were dramatized, angled and shoved together like someone had tried to mold his face into something bolder and got carried away--the end result turning into something...scary. You thought back to all the media you had consumed as a child, before you even knew that such fairy tales were real, and you couldn’t believe how many of them had actually gotten it right.

It was in that moment that you knew you weren’t scared of Max Phillips. No matter how his body shied away from you and tried to hunch in on itself, you weren’t frightened of what he was. No, what scared you was the fact that even with the evidence of his monstrous ways literally staring you in the face--you still wanted him.

“I should go,” you said quietly, letting your leg slip off of his waist as you hastily pulled your dress back down over your hips.

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

“Max--”

“Don’t,” he shook his head and still wouldn’t look at you. “I’ll be inside in a bit.” You saw his fists flex gently at his side as he kept his eyes closed and focused on breathing normally. You started to take his jacket off to give it back to him and he shook his head.

“This was a mistake,” you whispered, careful to keep your voice as even as possible as you walked away.

\--

The room was dark as you lay on your side on the edge of the bed and wiped away another stray tear with frustration. Why were you crying? There was absolutely no reason to be fucking crying. And yet, here you were.

You had gone inside and said goodnight to your mother, apologizing for cutting out early and blaming it on stomach issues or some bullshit. With a kiss on the cheek and some motherly reassurance, you had blazed a direct path back to the house. You didn’t know where Max was, and you didn’t care--but that was a lie. You weren’t mad at Max, you were mad at yourself. Somewhere along the way you had fucked around and let your guard down and you were trying to catch yourself before it went any further. Five years, you had known him for five years, and that meant you should know better that there was no way anyone could ever feel anything real with a man like Max fucking Phillips.

Then there was the fact that he was a vampire. Although what scared you most wasn’t the fangs, it was the fact that despite all of that...you didn’t seem to care. None of that mattered though, because you were certain that Max probably thought you hated him now. With the way you practically ran from him, he was most likely under the impression that you were afraid of him. So, here you were, curled up in the comforter and crying in the dark, and Max had yet to come upstairs.

You had almost succumbed to a restless sleep when you heard the bedroom door open and close with a quiet click. You listened as Max took off his clothes, the quiet thud of his shoes on the hardwood, the soft clink of his belt as he changed into sweats--you hated the way your heart raced and you clenched your thighs at the idea of him pant-less. Pull it together. You were certain he knew that you were awake, he had to, but he didn’t say anything as he got down on the floor and tucked himself in on his pallet.

He was silent and you couldn’t take it.

“Max?” You asked, shutting your eyes tightly and hoping you weren’t about to make a huge mistake.

“Yeah?” his voice came from the foot of the bed.

“You don’t,” you squeaked, and quickly cleared your throat and tried again. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” There was a long pause and you mentally cursed yourself for what was appearing to be a continued moment of weakness. 

“You sure?”

“Get up here before I change my mind.” You said, shoving your face into the pillow as if he would be able to see your cheeks burning in the dark. You heard him chuckle as he got back up. The bed moved under his weight and the blankets lifted up a little as he slid in. Looking over your shoulder in his general direction you added, “Keep your hands to yourself.” The added addendum of ‘for now’ hung unsaid in the air.

“You got it, sweetheart.”

The smile in his voice was easily heard, and the addition of his favored nickname for you made your heart feel a little lighter.


	8. The Gift & The Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up next to him and remember the events of the night before. Your mom and grandmother take the two of you to pick up your dress and his suit. A gift and a conversation with your grandmother leads to a inability to deal with emotions that results in a catastrophic event.

How had it taken him this long to admit something so simple? How had he worked beside you for half of a decade and he had never told you? But told you what exactly? You were so beautiful. You were so stubborn and smart and hardworking--and he was the world's biggest jackass. Someone call the world records department because there surely wasn't a bigger asshole in the world than Max fucking Phillips.

He had stayed awake almost all night, unable to sleep with you this close to him. You smelled so fucking good. Your hair was damp and fragrant from your shower after the party and he had never wanted to touch something so badly. He dreamed about you. He fucking dreamed about you. And even though most of them had different events, they all had the same ending--you saw his face, his real face, and screamed so loudly it woke him up with a jolt. It had been a close one last night, way too close, and if he continued to let his guard down around you, he was bound to scare you off.

It was a downright inconvenience that he didn’t need to sleep as a walking member of the undead. He had no ability to turn off for a few hours, to make his mind go blissfully blank. And the irony of it all is that you seemed to insist on doing things to taunt him while you slept.

When he had heard you moan his name the night before, he thought it was surely going to cease to exist. Were you dreaming of him? You had to be. And it didn’t particularly sound like it was a bad dream. Judging by the way you let him put his hand up your dress against the barn, it had been a very good dream. Fuck. The barn.

You were so stunning it pissed him off. You weren’t supposed to be this ethereal goddess that spurned his advances. You were his secretary. And things had been perfectly fine with the two of you verbally tearing into each other to the point of something corporate would have probably considered harassment. But this whole trip, this whole stupid trip, the two of you pretending to be a couple, somewhere along the way it didn’t feel like pretend. And as he looked down at you curled against him, he didn’t want to stop pretending.

Some time in the middle of the night you had rolled over and laid your head on his chest, You were so warm and without thinking, his arm came down around your shoulders while you fell back into a deep sleep. And that’s where you stayed. He didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe. He just held you.

As the sun rose through the clouds and his watch on the nightstand beeped, you raised your head and looked at him. It took a minute for your surroundings to sink in as you looked down at the minuscule space between your bodies and his arm around you.

“Oh--” you said, worriedly. You pulled back slowly as if you were reluctant to leave his arms, but maybe he was just imagining that. Maybe you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “I’m sorry. How long was I like that?”

 _The whole night._ “Not long,” he lied. “You seemed to be sleeping really well, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Well, thanks,” you said as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. “I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

 _It’s fine. I wanted to hold you._ “Nah, I was already up. You snored in my ear.” Max sat up and grabbed his watch, putting it on his wrist. He chuckled as you stuck your tongue out at him. “We should probably hurry if we want enough time for a cup of coffee--your mom had something for us, remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” You groaned and flopped back on the bed. “I just want to go back to bed.” You let your arm fall over your eyes as you groaned.

 _With me?_ “Yeah, I don’t think that would go over well with her.” Max grabbed his jeans and the button down that he had laid out the night before and started to walk towards the door.

“Wait,” you said, moving your arm and sitting up. “Where are you going?”

“You can have the bedroom to get dressed--I’ll use the bathroom downstairs--”

“Max.”

He stopped and looked back at you, careful to keep his face blank as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Last night--”

“We’re good.” He shook his head and swallowed the lump in his throat. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“Yes we do,” you argued. “We need to talk about what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” he said sharply and he immediately regretted it. Why was he suddenly so angry? This wasn’t your fault. He should tell you the truth. He needed to tell you what he was thinking, but if there was one thing he didn’t do well it was facing his own vulnerabilities.

“Nothing? So, _nothing_ happened?” you asked and he flinched at the bitterness that had entered your own voice. “Great. Just great.”

“Great.”  
“Fine.”

The two of you stared at one another for a beat before you flung back the comforter and started to walk to the bathroom.

“You know what?” You spun around pointing your finger at him and it took all he had not to flinch back.

“What?” Max challenged.

“Forget it.” You blew an irritated noise out through your nostrils and stalked towards the bathroom. “See you downstairs.”

Max watched as you slammed the door a little harder than was necessary and he gave a smack to his own forehead and snarled. “Idiot. Fucking idiot.” More than likely, you had wanted to tell him to go fuck himself or any number of expletives that you could string together in a creative fashion. But like always, you were the bigger person. The better person.

What happened last night most definitely wasn’t ‘nothing’, but if you were mad at him then maybe things could go back to normal. Maybe they could go back to how they used to be. But things would never be how they were back in New York. Five years of working together, five years of sharing an office and going on business trips and having you know every detail of his life and not once had either of you crossed that line--but last night you did.

He jerked his jeans on one leg at a time and shut his eyes tightly as he tried to think of anything other than the way your lips felt on his. And he tried his hardest not to think about how warm and wet you were around his fingers as he had put them inside of you. He wanted to do it again. But apparently he couldn’t stop being an asshole long enough to let you tell him if you even wanted him to do it again.

He had to tell you. But tell you what? That he wanted to fuck you? No, it was more than that. That he liked you? He suddenly felt like he was back in grade school and he hated it. Maybe he should just say fuck it and write you a note. Call off the fake wedding and go to Romania and clear his head. Clear it of you.

“Good Morning future son-in-law!” Your mom called over the kitchen counter and got out an extra mug for him as he entered the kitchen.

“Morning,” Max said with a slight twitch of his lip in an attempted smile.

“We’ve got a big day--what’s wrong?” She saw Max’s face and put his mug in front of him, letting her smile drop. “Nerves?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee and muttering his thanks. “Just nervous. That’s it.”

“Oh, don’t be,” your mother scoffed and waved her hand like she was getting rid of all of his troubles. “It’ll be great. Grandma is the best seamstress in Alaska. Both of you will look perfect for the wedding on Friday.”

Max started to respond but looked up as you came down the stairs. “Let’s get this over with.” You grumbled, taking his mug from his hands and taking a sip of it yourself. “Ugh, why is there no creamer in this?”

“That’s not the attitude you should have for trying on your wedding dress, dear,” your mom scolded, narrowing her eyes at you. “Did you not sleep well?”

“I slept awful.” You walked around the counter avoiding eye contact with Max as you added cream to his coffee and continued to drink it for yourself.

 _Awful._ Fuck. Max ran a hand over his face as he felt his stomach bottom out. Maybe you really didn’t feel the same way. Maybe he had read you wrong. And that made it all worse, because despite the idea that you might not want him--he still wanted you.

Max's cell phone started ringing loudly from its place on top of his wallet at the edge of the counter. Everyone in the kitchen looked at it as Max picked it up and glanced at the caller ID before hitting the red decline button and doing something even more shocking--turning it off. The two of you made eye contact as you lowered your mug and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you need to get that?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "Not important."

Your mother glanced between the two of you, before looking back to Max with a mildly impressed smile. She grabbed her purse off of the coat rack by the doorway and jingled her keys. "Well, lovebirds," she opened the door and gestured with her arm. "Shall we?"

\--

Max stood in front of the mirror and held his arms out in front of him testing the fit of the suit jacket that your grandmother had been pinning in the right place for almost the last hour. He hadn't been allowed to see you being fitted for your wedding dress. Despite his curiosity, your grandma and mom had refused.

He had spent that time sitting in the front room of your grandma's small shop looking at family photos and reading old newspaper clippings about their lives in Sitka. A rich history built on love, passion, and hard work--all traits that he still saw in you and the work you did as his secretary. No, not secretary, executive assistant. Despite his ability to roadblock you for five years, your heels had continued to hit the pavement day in and day out. He was finally able to admit to himself that he admired that.

"What do you think, Max?" Your grandma asked with a smile as she smoothed her hands down his shoulders, taking away a wrinkle.

"It looks perfect," he said honestly as he looked down the line of the lapel in the mirror and nodded in approval.

"You look very handsome," your mother smiled as well and came over to hand her mom more pins. "Nana is the best seamstress in Alaska. She could tailor a suit to fit a grizzly."

"Well hopefully I'm much easier than a bear--though I think your daughter would want to argue against that." Max tried to make a joke and he knew he should have kept his mouth shut when your mom's face fell.

"Did you guys have a fight?"

"Not exactly--"

"Oh, honey, enough," Nana snapped with a wave of her hand. "That's none of our business. Pre-wedding jitters are bound to lead to spats. If you don't fight, then you should worry--arguments mean there is passion."

"I guess you're right," your mom said, giving Max a reassuring smile.

The older woman stood back to admire her work and Max fought the urge to wave his hands out at his sides in a jazzy fashion. She pursed her lips in thought and moved to take in another inch at the waist, lowering her glasses on the brim of her nose so she could look over them. "You know, Max, this suit belonged to my father. Funny how these things come back in style."

"Really?" Max asked.

"Yeah, he fit it himself, with the help of my mother, right here in this very shop back in 1929."

"That's incredible."

"Mhm," she nodded. "What do you think about these buttons, dear?"

"Dealer's choice," Max offered and it made the old woman smile.

As her wrinkled and softly calloused hands started to fix the buttons, your mother came to stand in front of the mirror so she could look at Max. Max had never known his grandmother but he imagined if he did, he would want her to act something like yours. With soft features and an even softer demeanor, that used her hands to create things for her loved ones with all the time she was allowed. He must have been lost in his thoughts for quite some time because your mother's voice almost made him jump off of the small dais.

"Listen, Max, dear--" she wrung her hands in front of her like she was nervous and her voice shook slightly. "I was thinking--well, I thought maybe we could head down your way for the holidays this year."

Max felt his stomach jolt at her words. He could hear her heart hammering in her chest like a trapped bird. Holidays. That was a normal request for a normal family, but the two of you weren't normal and not a family. This was a lie. He wanted to shout it right then. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her back and forth and scream his confessions at her and how he was the biggest jackass in the world but he cared about you and maybe if he came clean that would count for something. If he did the right thing it would be better late than never, right? When he stayed silent she continued, pausing first to swallow so hard he could hear it.

"We've never seen her apartment. Well, both of your guys' apartment, I'm assuming you live together--" she rambled, not looking Max in the eyes. "I hear New York is beautiful during the holidays. The lights, the snow, I mean if it's okay--look at me, just babbling on and inviting myself. I'm sorry--"

"No," Max coughed and shook his head. "No, it's okay. That'd be nice. Of course you're invited. Or--" He needed to shut himself up, but the lies continued to fall from his mouth. _Shut up. Shut up. Shut…_ "Or maybe we could come up to you."

Fuck.

Your mother looked like she would have been less surprised if he had walked over and slapped her. But with a heavy exhale and a smile that dissolved into tears, she nodded enthusiastically. "That would be wonderful. Oh Max, that would make me so happy."

"Oh for goodness sake!" Your grandmother broke her silence to dig a pastel pink handkerchief out of her pocket and wave it at the other woman. "Pull yourself together. We have lots of work to do!"

"I know, mom, I know," the younger woman continued to blubber as she took the cloth and dabbed her eyes.

Max couldn't think of a single thing that would make this supposedly tender moment more uncomfortable. He was certain he would rather be anywhere else in the world right now. He would rather be back in the office, listening to you bust his balls about a presentation. The thought made his lip twitch up into a grin. He looked back to the suit and at the pearl buttons that your grandma had finished stitching. He heaved a heavy sigh of relief when your mother excused herself from the room to get a handle on her emotions.

"Sorry about her." Nana made a mark on the cloth and Max waved away her apology.

"It's fine. She has a lot on her plate."

"Says the man who's about to be married," she said with a wink and a nudge in his ribs. "Now, there's just one more special touch and then you can go."

She moved slowly, letting her stiff knees get back into working order as she stood up straight. She came back to him with a small, dark cherry, box clutched tightly in her hands. Whatever was inside he didn't want to know. This was suddenly too much. He needed to tell her. If he told anyone he needed to tell the kind old woman in front of him. Once again, his cowardice and hesitation won out.

"They've been in the family for 150 years." She spoke quietly as she opened the box and showed him the ornate pair of cuff links sitting on the velvet lining. They were a polished silver with a vibrantly dark and garnet gemstone on the center. Despite their age, they were incredibly well cared for, and more importantly well loved.

"They're gorgeous. I couldn't possibly--" he tried but she cut him off.

"I wasn't finished, son."

"Oh-kay." Max suddenly felt like he was a child again as he snapped his mouth closed and listened like she instructed.

"My great-grandmother gave them to my great-grandfather when they got married." She took them out of the box and gestured for him to hold his arm out for her. "They were quite the scandal you know. He was Russian and she was Tlingit." She fastened the first one to his cuff gently as she spoke. "And back then you had to get permission from each member of the tribe before you were allowed to marry...almost broke them up."

"How--" Max cleared his throat as he offered her his other arm. "How did they stay together, then?"

"He was a lot like you," she smiled as she fastened the second link. "Stubborn. Tenacious. Wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. And she was good for him. Kept him grounded. She was the soft spot in his hardened heart--there." She patted his arm as they both admired the jewelry. "I want you to have them."

"No. I couldn't. I couldn't possibly--"

"I don't want to hear it," she shook her head as he struggled to argue. "Grandmother's love to give stuff to their grandchildren. It makes us feel like we'll still be a part of your lives even after we're gone. Keep them. Please?"

Max's throat hurt. He wasn't sure if he wanted to vomit or if he needed a drink. The air in the shop was suddenly too dense, too thick, like he was breathing in smog, even though he knew nothing had changed around him.

"Max? Are you alright?"

He snapped out of it and tried to control his face as he gave her his most reassuring smile, his salesman best, and nodded. "Yeah, I just want to make sure we have time to finish all the sewing."

"Oh, don't worry about that!" She exclaimed delightedly. "I have it under control." She leaned up on her tiptoes and pulled his face down a bit so she could kiss him on the cheek. "Now, let's get you out of these pins so you can get back to your bride."

\--

Max couldn't get out of the shop fast enough. His boots hit the gravel with a satisfying crunch as he made a beeline from the doorway across the street to the pier. He had made up some bullshit story of you wanting to take him out to lunch at one of your favorite mom and pop restaurants and the two women had been happy to stay behind. He needed to get away. He needed to breathe. He needed to think before he made a rash decision and ruined the entire plan because he had foolishly caught feelings of some sort.

The snow clouds had moved in, blocking out the sun and making it easy for him to exist in the open. The darkening sky made the water of the gulf look gray and menacing and every time the breeze blew it brought a frigid air inland. You were sitting on your family's boat, gently rocking in the water, wrapped in your coat, sunglasses filtering the overcast glare. Your head was back, slumped in the seat and you didn't move until he hopped down into the boat with a loud thud.

"Max?" You asked, shoving your glasses up on top of your head. Max worked furiously to untie the rope from the dock before moving and twisting the keys in the ignition. "Sure, hop on in, welcome aboar--Max!"

"Stop talking," he snarled as he pushed the throttle forward and the motor roared to life in the water. The propellers bubbled and churned as the craft jerked and started going.

"Max, what the hell is wrong?" You sat up as the boat moved forward, leaving the docks behind you in a line of choppy waves.

"I need to get away from everybody." He shook his head and turned the steering wheel, setting you on a course for the open water.

"Mind telling me why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Just stop talking! Please!" He snapped and it shut you up. He urged to boat faster, hitting the wakes at a reckless pace that made the cold water splash up the sides and onto the deck. The wind howled in his ears and blew the hair back from your faces. He knew he should slow down. But he couldn't. He needed as much space between him and the land as possible. He needed to be far from your family. From the people he was hurting.

"Max."

He pressed on.

"Max!"

He didn't know if it was the panic in your voice or the fact that if he held it in any longer he thought his chest would burst, but he looked over his shoulder at you. His hands gripped the wheel as the boat continued to skip across the waves.

"I forgot! I forgot, okay?!" He yelled.

"You forgot what?" Your voice matched his.

"I forgot what it was like to have a family!" He looked forward and shook his head. "I've been on my own since I was sixteen! And I forgot what it felt like to have people love you! To really give a fucking shit about you!"

"Max stop!"

"To make you breakfast in bed, and to say, 'Hey! We'd love to come down for the holidays!'" He waved his arm out almost angrily as his eyes burned and he recalled the conversation he had just had with your mother. "And then like an idiot you say, 'Well, maybe we'll come up and see you!'"

"Max, what the hell are you talking about!"

"And then they give you cuff links that have been in the family for over a century!"

"What cuff links!"

He continued like you hadn't tried to interrupt him. "And you have that here! You have all of that here and I'm screwing it up!"

"You're not screwing it up--I agreed to this!" You stood up on the back of the boat and gripped the side railing trying to make your voice heard over the motor. "You were there, remember? I said yes to this!"

"Your family loves you!" Max took his eyes off of the water and looked back at you. "Do you know that?"

"Yes!"

"Do you really know that?!"

"Yes, I know that!"

"And you're willing to put them through all of this?"

"They're not going to find out!"

"How do you know that?" Max asked and the two of you glared at each other in shock, his wide, brown eyes mirroring yours. It was as if someone had flipped the scripts on the two of you.

"You said so yourself! You've said so since the beginning!"

"But what if your mother--"

"What about my mother?!"

"If your mother--or worse, if your grandmother finds out--she's gonna have a heart attack!" He gripped his own hair at the horrible thought of something so tragic happening to such a kind old woman.

"It's going to be fine!"

"She's. Going. To. Have. A. Heart. Attack." He hit the steering wheel with each word because you weren't listening.

For the first time in this whole trip you weren't the one thinking of all that could go wrong. He turned the boat around a large orange buoy. The floating marker signaled that it was a good idea to turn back to the mainland.

"And before you even say it, I know," he continued to speak loudly over the waves. "That high-jacking a boat isn't the best way to work out my frustrations but we have got to think of a plan-B here!" He started to ease up on the throttle as he waited for your response. "Oh, so now you decide to shut up? This whole time you wanted to argue--sweetheart?"

He turned around slowly as your silence made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It was almost as if he knew what he was about to see before he ever saw it.

"Max!"

You screamed for him and it made his heart ache deep inside his chest. He watched your head disappear under the water as one of the wakes from the boat swallowed you whole. You had fallen out when he hit one of the larger wakes during his first turn. He cut the steering wheel hard and the motor groaned in protest as he turned the boat around. He yelled your name, your real name, as he watched you break the surface sputtering and flailing.

"Fuck!" He cursed as he sped up, back in the direction of the buoy. Maybe if you could get to it, maybe if you could reach it, you could hold on while he made his way back to you.

"Max!" You gasped for him before inhaling deeply and disappearing under the dark surface.

"Shit, shit--" As the boat came to a slow stop, Max shifted it into idle and started yanking off his coat. The water was ice cold and where it had caused your muscles to tense up, he was hoping with everything he had that wouldn't be the case for him.

He saw you just below the surface and before he could think twice, he dove in the water and grabbed you by the upper arm and the back of your coat. The coat, now completely soaked, weighed you down and made it difficult to swim, but that meant very little to his supernatural strength. He grit his teeth, feeling his fangs descend and his face morph as he kicked hard and brought you both to the surface. Relief washed through him as he heard you draw a deep breath and cough.

"I got ya, I got ya," he repeated as he held you close to his chest and grabbed onto the boat. "Grab the rail."

You nodded and let him support you as you both braced against the waves. He watched as you swung your arms up one at a time and gripped the railing. Once you had a firm hold, he gripped your thigh and waist and hoisted you up out of the water without any leverage. Max waited until he heard you hit the deck, coughing up more water but securely inside of the boat, before he followed suit and pulled himself up.

"It’s okay. Let me help. What happened? Here--" He helped you sit up and started jerking the waterlogged coat off of your shoulders.

"Y-you kn-knocked me out of the b-boat y-you f-fucking ass-asshole." You let him help you but your teeth chattered so hard you could barely manage to get a complete sentence out.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words fell from his mouth so quickly that he wasn't sure why he was apologizing. There were too many things he needed to tell you he was sorry for, but he didn't know where to begin. He reached back behind the seat where your grandma kept one of her blankets for trips into the marina and wrapped it around your shoulders. His hands worked quickly and rubbed your arms up and down as you leaned into his body and trembled against his chest.

"N-nice d-driving, Ahab."

The fact that you still had it in you to get a jab in made him feel instantly lighter. Laughter barked from deep within his chest as he held you closer and continued his rubbing of your back and arms. It wasn't doing much, but it was the best he had at the moment. He needed to get you back, get you warmed up as soon as possible before you got sick.

“Sweetheart,” he said after a moment of prolonged silence. “What I said this morning--about last night. The barn. It wasn’t ‘nothing’. I didn’t mean that.”

You kept your hands on his chest as you looked up at him. He fought the urge to push back your wet hair that was sticking to your face and at odd angles. One look at your wide eyes and he suddenly remembered what his own face looked like.

“Max--”

“Shit--don’t,” he growled as he quickly looked away from you and shut his eyes tightly trying to will his features back into their more human state. But the thing he had found about his powers was that when it came to self-preservation, he gained control of many things, but lost control of his appearance. If he wanted to use the bonus of his vampiric talents, he had to show the world what he really was...a monster.

His whole body stiffened as you moved your hands to his cheeks and turned him back to look at you.

“I know,” you said quietly as you used the tip of your finger to trace the ridge of his cheekbone down to the corner of his mouth. “It wasn’t ‘nothing’ for me either.”

“You don’t have to touch me when I’m like this--” Max tried, voice croaking pathetically as your willingness to not only look at him but caress him brought a shiver down his back.

“I want to.”

The pad of your finger continued up the bridge of his nose and over the prominent arch of his brow line that made his yellow, cat-like eyes look hooded. Max closed them and his shoulders relaxed as you traced the same pattern over the opposite eye. He exhaled, whispering your name softly. He was certain no one had ever touched him quite like this. You had seen him completely naked and yet somehow this felt more intimate. What the hell was wrong with him? What were you doing to him?

His grip on you tightened as he felt your lips on his mouth. A gentle but purposeful kiss that had him sitting back on his heels and moaning softly. You went up on your knees and kept his face firmly in your hands as you let him taste you. Fuck, you were so cold, and when you shivered against him he made himself pull back and hold you at arms length.

“I want to keep doing that,” he admitted, opening his eyes and looking at you sincerely. “But we need to get you back and warmed up.”

You nodded, “It’s okay, right? Everything’s still gonna be okay?”

Max pursed his lips but pulled you in tighter against your chest, resting his chin on top of your head. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’ve got this.” He pressed his lips to your hair and hoped his words sounded more confident than he actually felt.


	9. The Down & The Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Max know it’s no longer ‘nothing’ between you. You’re way passed pretending. And another heart to heart has you finishing what you started at the party.  
> Here you go ladies and gents. You’ve waited 36,000 words for this. We survived, we made it. You all know what this chapter is. Enjoy.

_\-- Every single thing is feeling right Started as a quiet Friday night I don't really think that we should fight this What if we don't stop until it's light? --_

No matter how many times you told your family you were okay, it's as if they couldn't hear you, or they just weren't listening. Just like you knew they would, they had freaked out when they saw you wet and shivering, and their hysteria only increased when you told them you fell in the gulf. They tried to impress upon you the dangers of what had happened as if you hadn’t just gone through it, or as if you hadn’t lived near the waters for the majority of your life. 

“I just don’t know what you were thinking,” your mother threw her hands up in the air as she walked around your room.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” you tried to keep the bitterness from your voice. 

"How--?"

"Clumsy, I guess." 

“Clumsy?”

“Yup.”

You lied with a shrug and you felt Max relax at your side. He hadn't taken his hand from the small of your back since the boat ride back to the house and you didn't mind. Your mother had been glad to drive and you sat as far away from the edge as possible, curled against Max's chest. He was probably just as surprised as you were at the ease at which you folded into him, but something about it felt right. 

Max had saved you. But he hadn't just saved you, he admitted that what happened outside of the party meant something. Now, what exactly that was, you weren't entirely sure, but at least he was feeling _something_. The two of you had let your mother make you a tray of food and start the fireplace in your room, bustling about as you awkwardly stood in the middle of the rug. You felt like a child being scolded for being foolish enough to fall into the water and as if sensing your growing annoyance, Max put his hand back in its place on your back.

You were cold. You were tired. And you desperately wanted everyone to stop fussing over you. 

"I think we can handle it from here," Max said as your mother turned back the bed and clicked on the heated blanket. 

"A miracle. An absolute miracle that Max was there. Do you have any idea how dangerous the gulf is this time of year?" She asked to empty air as she fluffed the pillows and ignored the both of you. 

“Mom.”

“You could have died!”

“Mom!” 

She stopped when you raised your voice and she turned around and let her shoulders fall slightly. You apologized quietly and excused yourself to the bathroom to change out of your wet clothes. 

You wanted to be left alone, to wallow in the bottomless pit of embarrassment that you were feeling, but you also wanted Max. You wanted him to hold you like on the boat, like last night when you woke up on his chest. You wanted to kiss him again. Looking in the mirror, you looked at your lips as if you expected them to be changed in some way. They looked perfectly normal, albeit a little blue from your impromptu swim. But you didn’t feel the same. Five years of being his assistant, of knowing everything about him, and yet this was uncharted territory for the both of you. 

Slowly, you peeled off each piece of wet clothing and draped them over the edge of the tub and the shower curtain. Your sides hurt where you had toppled over the boat and you inspected your skin carefully for any bumps or blossoming bruises. It wasn't until you were standing completely naked did you realize in your haste you hadn't grabbed anything new to change into. Fuck. 

The goosebumps still covered your skin as you rubbed at them and cracked the bathroom door. “Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you--can you hand me my tank-top and shorts?” You heard him move around and as you stuck your hand out the door, hiding your body as best as you could, you asked, “Did my mom leave?”

“Yeah,” he said, putting the clothes in your hand. “She knew you were tired. She told me to make sure you eat something.”

“Well, you are the man of the hour--”

You tried to pull your hand back with your clothes but he kept his grip. Your heart started thudding in your chest as you saw him through the door in his sweats and nothing else. It was as if knowing that the only thing that separated the two of you was one article of clothing and the bathroom door was too much to handle. 

“Max…” you whispered and he put his hand against the door. It was as if both of you were afraid any loud noise would shatter whatever moment was happening between you. 

“You’re cold,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “You’ll warm up faster without these.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being gross or not--”

“Sweetheart.”

You looked up at him and knew with one shared glance that he wasn’t trying to be an ass. For the first time in five years he was choosing not to be an insufferable prick, and he was doing so with you standing completely naked two feet from him. Who was this man and what had he done with Max Phillips? 

Before you could stop yourself, you let go of your clothes. They fell to the floor at your feet and Max shoved the bathroom door the rest of the way open, pulling you to him until your breasts were flush against his chest. Your hands went to his neck, sliding up his throat to cup his jaw in your palms as he crashed his lips against yours. It was just as needy of a kiss as it had been at the party, if not more. 

His large hands slid down your sides and around your body until he could grab two handfuls of your ass and pull you with him as he started to walk backwards. You followed him willingly, walking across the bedroom until your feet hit the carpet of the rug. 

In the time you had gone to the bathroom to breathe and escape the hyper-fixations of your mother, he had piled the blankets and pillows from the bed on the floor. When you pulled back from his mouth to raise an eyebrow in question at him, he grinned. “Closer to the fire. I’d hate for you to turn into a Popsicle.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my boss?” you smiled against his lips as he leaned back in and slowly took you to the floor. 

“I’m a very thoughtful person,” he chuckled and you let out a bark of laughter. The action tossed your head back against the pillows and he took the opportunity to drag his lips down your neck.

“Thoughtful as in you think about the easiest way to get your dick wet.” 

“Hey, I resent that,” he leaned up to look at you. The serious expression made you worry that your joke had gone too far, but you relaxed the moment he gave you his trademark smirk. “I never take the easy way. I prefer a challenge.” 

You laughed again as he dipped his head back down and pressed gentle bites and firm kisses against your skin, down to your collarbone. Your fingers carded through his hair and you moaned quietly as he found a sensitive spot on the underside of your breast. His lips trailed a cool line of saliva up to your nipple and when he took it into his mouth you arched against him and let out a quiet gasp. 

“Max.” You breathed his name and his arms gave you a squeeze.

“You like that?” 

“Do the other one.”

He obliged your command and dipped his head down to your other breast. Each cool kiss that he left quickly warmed as the fire crackled beside you, casting each of your bodies in a beautiful flickering glow of oranges and shadows. 

“Should we stop?” he asked, unable to look at you and your hands instinctively tightened in his hair.

“Don’t you dare.” When you made it clear that you didn’t want him to stop what he was doing, he raised his head to look at you. “Take off your pants.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled and let his arms fall from around you so he could go up on his knees and push his sweats off. 

When his half-hard cock gently bobbed free, you bit your lip to keep from saying anything you would be embarrassed about later. Despite arguing that you hadn’t, when the two of you had run stark naked into each other a few days ago, you had gotten a brief glimpse of his...glory, and seeing it now was even better. Max Phillips, despite his pompous douchebag nature, had the equipment to back it up. 

“Being a vampire gives me a lot of power, but I’m disappointed that I can’t read minds right now,” he joked, letting his hand trail down to cup himself.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m gawking.”

“Gawk away,” he gestured to himself with a nervous chuckle. “But I’d rather you touch.”

“Yeah me too,” you said, moving to your knees and pushing his hand away in favor of stroking him yourself. He gave a small grunt and relinquished control, cupping your cheeks and kissing you deeply. 

His tongue traced the line of your teeth before going deeper to tangle with your own. He never shut up in real life and apparently the same was true in bed because as you gripped his length and moved your hand up and down, he moaned into your mouth. You ate all of his sounds with greedy abandon, trying new things to get him to make more. When the pad of your thumb brushed the head of his dick, now fully erect and dripping for you, he pushed you back down into the blankets with a growl. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. His eyes closed as he leaned into your touch and you reached down to cup his balls. The velvet skin rolled easily between your fingers and he slumped against you, boxing you in with his forearms and the weight of his hips. 

“Good?” you asked against his cheek and he nodded.

“Yeah, you know you’re pretty good at that for someone who hasn’t slept with anyone in a year and a half--” He gave a loud grunt as you squeezed a little too hard.

“Max, I swear--”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he smiled and leaned back down to kiss you again as if he could soothe his words with his lips. It worked, and you relaxed your hand. He bit your bottom lip gently and nuzzled your chin down your jaw to the shell of your ear. His large hand gently pushed yours away, grabbing your wrist and pinning it above your head against the pillow. “Can I touch you, sweetheart?” 

“Yes,” you nodded quickly as he grabbed the other wrist and pinned them both with one of his big hands. “Max, _please_.”

He reached between your legs and you instinctively spread them a little wider as his fingers made contact with your core. He traced the line of your slit from bottom to top and hummed possessively at how wet you were. You expected a tease, a witty one liner that would boast about his ability to make you literally drip with how much you wanted him, but nothing came. Instead he tilted his head back up and captured your lips. That alone only made you more aroused. The pride in his chest as he slipped two fingers inside of you and heard you squeak was tangible, but his ability to keep his mouth shut for once in his life was somehow more attractive. 

“Remind me why we waited five years to do this?” you grinned as he pulled back so you could take a breath. 

“It wasn’t for lack trying on my part,” Max said, crooking his fingers inside of you and stroking your top wall gingerly. “If you weren’t so stubborn, we would have been in this position years ago.”

“You like my stubbornness.”

He paused, seeming to think it over for a bit before nodding and giving your wrists a tight squeeze. “You’re absolutely right.” 

It was as if he couldn’t stop kissing you. And you weren’t complaining. His lips were soft and the hard press of teeth that you knew lead to his fangs was a rush that made your heart race. You wiggled your hands in his grip, longing to grab his hair again, touch his face, the smooth expanse of his chest and stomach--you wanted it all. You wanted Max. He started thrusting his fingers in and out of you and the sounds of your own wetness made you both moan in unison against each other. When he added a third finger you knew it was over for you. 

“Max--” you whimpered but he ignored you, stretching your pussy to accommodate his fingers and moving them faster. “Max, I’m gonna cum--”

“Do it,” he encouraged, pressing your wrists into the pillows.

He leaned down and hovered over the apex of your thighs, making sure you were watching before letting a line of spit fall from his mouth to the top of your cunt. He waited for the saliva to land in your curls before he used the pad of his thumb to move it down to rub circles around your clit. The visual paired with the new pressure was enough to make you arch your back as you felt your release wash over you. You clenched down around his hand and as if he knew what you wanted, he leaned down to kiss you hard and devour your soft cries of pleasure. 

“There it is, good girl, so good,” he murmured against you and that only made you want him more. 

The old you that still couldn’t believe you were about to sleep with Max Fucking Phillips was so upset with how badly you wanted him to call you a _‘good girl’_ again. Fuck it. That had been your attitude so far, right? Fuck it. You wanted Max. He wanted you. And for five years you had put in the work day in and day out and without a single moment of absolute selfishness to show for it. It was long overdue. 

“I need you.” You pushed your wrists against his hands a little more forcefully and he relinquished his hold on you. 

“Anyway you want me, sugar tits,” he smirked and before you could deny him based on his filthy term of endearment, he wrapped his arm around your waist and rolled you on top of him. 

You squealed, hands falling to his chest for balance as you straddled his waist and felt the hard press of his erection against your ass. The shameless way you moved your hips to grind against him couldn’t be helped and it was your turn to smirk as he bit his lip and groaned. He reached down around your ass to grab his dick and you leaned up, reaching back to help him angle himself between your folds. You sank down slowly, taking him an inch at a time and letting him stretch you in a way that made you both let out an extended moan. 

“Fuuuuuck, shit,” he breathed as he tilted his head back and raised his pelvis to finish pushing inside of you. “Shit--” he cursed again, looking down to where your bodies met and you leaned down to press your chest against his and capture his lips. 

“Is that a good string of unintelligent profanity?” you smiled, speaking in between kisses. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, gripping your ass and urging you to start to rock slowly. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

His words were quiet, mumbled even, as he held you close--but you had definitely heard them. Perfect. You were perfect. Not your tits, or your ass, or any other crude things he had backhandedly complimented in the past--but you. 

You finished the kiss and leaned back, putting your hands against his chest and rolling your hips back and forth. He felt so good. His hands on your hips were just the right amount of tight, the way he stretched you was the right amount of push and drag. You were consumed by him and happy to be so. Reaching back to rest your hands on his thighs, you dug your nails into his flesh and rode him harder, faster. The feeling of the soft head of his hard cock meeting the end of you was enough to draw a quiet sound from your lips with each thrust. You opened your eyes and what you saw made heat rise and wash over your entire body.

Max was looking up at you with a wild abandon, a silent praise that you had never seen on him before. There was no facade. There was no sales pitch. This was Max in his purest form; looking up at you with wide, lust-filled brown eyes. His mouth was open and it was as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to watch your tits bounce or your face twist in pleasure. So he desperately tried to do both. 

He said your name. Your real name. And with impressive speed, sat up and buried his face in your breasts. He bit. He sucked. He left marks on your skin, exhaling heavily against your chest. His fingers dug into the flesh of your back as he held you close and rocked his hips. Your arms came down around his shoulders and you held him, meeting each deep thrust inside of you and resting your head on top of his. 

“ _Max, Max, Max_ ," you breathed against his hair continuously and every time seemed to spur him on. 

"You're killing me, sweetheart." 

He looked up at you as if you were made of diamonds, the strongest, most illustrious thing he had ever seen. And yet, you felt brittle, but in the way that if you needed to shatter he would be there to hold all of the pieces. It was a comforting feeling of vulnerability that you hadn't had in a very long time. 

"I'm going to--" you bit your lip hard as you bounced in his lap and squeezed your biceps around the side of his face.

"You're gonna cum again?" He panted, resting his chin in the valley of your breasts and looking up at you. "I want you to cum again."

You shook your head and slowed your hips, opening your eyes to meet his. "I want to feel you, too. Please, Max."

" _Please, Max_?" He asked, but it wasn't a taunt or a mock, he said the words like he wanted to indulge in the way they felt in his mouth. "Goddammit, I love hearing you say that."

"I'll keep saying it then," you grinned breathlessly, opening your mouth to beg him again and possibly bat your eyelashes. Instead he seized forward and for another kiss, earning a squeak of surprise as he rolled you onto your back. 

His large hand cradled the back of your head, making sure you landed on the pillows before his hips pinned you to the blankets. He reached down and hitched your leg up around his waist and pounded into you deeply and methodically. You held onto his shoulders, one hand moving up to tug at his hair once more as he fucked you. With your orgasm on the brink, if you wanted him to finish beside you, he was determined to do so. 

"Touch your clit, baby," he ordered and when you cupped his face, he turned his head to greedily suck your fingers into his mouth to wet them. 

As your hand slipped between your bodies, you arched against him and let out a frustrated groan. You were close. Fuck you were so close. Just a little more. Closing your eyes tightly, you dug your nails into his back with your free hand and focused on the way he felt between your thighs. Each stroke of his cock inside your slick heat was bringing you closer and if either of you relented you would lose it. But Max had no intentions of stopping and the moment you stopped trying so desperately to finish was the moment you came. 

"Fuck! Max! Right there, right there," you cried out against the crook of his neck as he pistoned his hips against your pelvis.

His fingers dug into the soft underside of your thigh and it grounded you as you came again. There would definitely be bruises in the morning but you didn't care, for now they were the only thing keeping you together as you felt the warmth of your orgasm radiate from your core down to your toes. You wanted him to finish inside of you. You needed him to finish inside of you. And with a few more strokes, he was doing just that. 

"Shit, fuck--yes, fuck, yes--sweetheart, baby, shit--," he babbled as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder. His cock throbbed deep inside of you and you felt him follow you over the edge in equally hot thrusts that matched your own. 

"Yes, mhmm, fuck--" you groaned as more of his weight rested in top of you. 

His forehead fell to your breasts again as he rolled the tension from his shoulders and reveled in post-release bliss. "That about sums it up." He mumbled against your tits and it made you smile. 

"That was," you shook your head and played your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. "I haven't cum like that--"

"In eighteen months. Yes, I know--ow!" He flinched as you slapped the back of his head. He nuzzled his face down against your clavicle and pressed a line of gentle kisses up to your jaw as if offering a silent apology. "Not bad though, huh?" He asked with a boyish grin that made you want to roll your eyes. 

"No, not bad at all."

\--

You had stayed like that for a while, content to have Max slowly softening inside you, his weight a comfort on top of you until your body started to protest staying in one position on the floor for too long. When your stomach grumbled, he handed you some of the food your mom had left, keeping his promise to her to see that you ate something. With the fire crackling at your back, the two of you finally settled among the blankets, facing one another. Sharing a pillow brought your noses almost touching at the tips, and every time he caught you staring at him, he would cross his eyes and make you laugh.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence you felt his hand on your arm.

"I may give you a hard time but I can't think of anyone else I'd want to commit fraud with," he said and even though your eyes were closed you could hear the smile in his voice. 

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," you quipped back, opening your eyes and returning the expression. 

“I’ve said a lot of nice things to you.”

“Uh, huh,” you said in mock disbelief and he chuckled.

"We still have a lot of the binder to get through," Max said, trailing his finger down the curve of your breast before curling his hand around your side. 

"You start," you said, moving closer to him and tucking your head under his chin. "I'm too tired."

“That means I did my job.” He laughed quietly and let his arm wrap around you, holding you close as you rested against his chest. "What do you want to know?"

"How'd you become a vampire?"

The words left your mouth before you could stop them and when you felt him stiffen against you, you almost took them back. Almost. But you had to know. That was a pretty big one and you needed to know what to say if the Department of Immigration asked you next week. 

"It's a long story."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He sighed and nodded, letting his hand rub slow circles on your back as you looked up at him. He finally nodded and silently relented. 

"It started when I was sixteen. Not the vampire thing, but the story.”

“Okay.”

“You know the scar on my leg? The one you mentioned on the plane?" He asked.

"Yes."

"I was in a car crash with my parents. It was snowing. They were arguing--about me, like they always did.” He was careful to keep his tone even but you knew there was more to it. “They didn't make it."

"Max, I'm sorry--"

He shook his head and you let him continue. "Not being able to live on my own yet, I went to live with my aunt and uncle. I was an angry little son of a bitch and I took it out on everyone around me. I spent more time in detention than I did in actual class." He shrugged. 

"And then?"

"I got into college by the skin of my teeth. Scraped by with grades just high enough not to get me put on probation, and I slept with just about anyone that I deemed attractive," he sighed and rubbed his forehead, keeping his tone nonchalant. "I was really good at drinking away any real friends I might have made along the way until I got accused of cheating and kicked out."

"Did you?" You asked. "Cheat, I mean."

"Nah," he shook his head. "The guy that accused me--I slept with his girlfriend. Actually, I don't even think she was his girlfriend, he was too afraid to talk to her."

"Evan. At the office? Sanders I think." 

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Water-cooler gossip. People talk." You shrugged.

"No, Evan talks." Max snarled a little and you raised your hand to cup his face and rub your thumb along his cheek until he relaxed. "I guess he thought I deserved it."

"I mean, it takes two to tango. She could have said 'no'." 

"Yeah, but he didn't see it that way."

You continued to trace small circles in the apple of his cheek. "What'd you do then?"

"I broke his nose."

The way he said it was so matter-of-fact that it caught you off guard. You laughed abruptly and it made him smile. "I wish I would have known that the day you fired him, it would have made me feel better as he told me what a bitch I was."

"Well, he's lucky I didn't break it again that day."

You paused and looked up at him, remembering the way he stood between you and the irate employee. Something that only seemed significant now after everything you had been through. But no matter when you realized it, the sentiment was still the same. You leaned up slowly and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. 

When you pulled back, you put your hand on his chest and kept your voice soft. "And then what happened?"

"My Aunt and Uncle said that it was time for me to move out. If I was going to cause trouble, I couldn't stay--I put out applications to any college with a decent MBA program and got denied everywhere for my record of academic dishonesty," he rolled his eyes and did half-hearted air quotes as he spoke. "Until I got a letter back from Romania--I should have known something was wrong, I didn't even apply there."

" _Max.._ "

"I know, I know," he said in his defense. "It was stupid. But I was young and an arrogant prick--"

"You're still those things."

His mouth dropped open in shock and you quickly dropped your serious expression to laugh genuinely. “I believe I’m still your boss.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you gave his chest a few pats. “You’re a young and arrogant prick... _Mr. Phillips_.”

“Much better,” he said, giving a firm nod. “And don’t forget it.” 

You kept your hand on his face, moving it down slowly to trace his bottom lip. He had nice lips. They were soft and he had perfected the art of making them pout in a way that both enticed and infuriated you. As if reading your mind, he leaned forward to give you another kiss. At this rate, you weren’t sure if you were ever going to stop kissing Max and for now that was okay. 

“I never said thank you,” you paused, moving back just enough to look at him.

“For what?”

“My mom was right,” you let out a breath. “I was lucky you were there today.”

“I’m the reason you fell in.”

“Yeah, but still.” You gave a small shrug and punctuated the sentiment by laying your head on his chest and closing your eyes. When his arms came down around you, locking behind your back, and he let his shoulders relax, you smiled. 

“You’re welcome.” He spoke against your hair as he laid his cheek on top of your head. “Any time, sweetheart.”

_\--_


	10. The Threat & The Defender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overstep and underlying threat from your father puts you on the defensive. Max realizes how much you care about what happens to him and shows you the feeling is mutual the only way he knows how. One of your most burning questions are finally answered and one phone call is all it takes to possibly end it all.

Both of you had been awakened by a gentle but firm knocking at your door. Once you were warm, you and Max had moved everything back into the bed in favor of a mattress over the floor. He may have been a vampire, but your human joints thanked you for it. You distinctly remembered giggling as the two of you fell into a tangle of blankets and tried to straighten them out without letting go of one another. The warmth of him and the bed had pulled you quickly into a deep sleep. Now as you walked down the steps of the porch you would have given just about anything to be back in bed and curled up against Max.

“You’re not going to let him stake me, right?” Max asked jokingly as the two of you fell into step with one another once you hit the damp grass.

“He’s not going to stake you,” you rolled your eyes and huddled in your sweater. “But if you keep teasing me about my snoring, I might consider it.”

The Alaskan morning air was the definition of the word brisk and as you followed your dad out into the shed in the backyard you were quietly dreaming of coffee and your heated blanket. Max stopped short as your dad reached the wooden door and turned around and looked at you both.

“I need to talk to both of you,” he said flatly and you felt your annoyance start to rise.

“And we couldn’t do this inside?” you asked.

“Now, your mother isn’t to hear a word about any of this,” he held out his hand with a firm look. “Understand?”

When you and Max both gave a nod, he opened up the door. You followed first, letting Max bring up the rear, just in case your dad started slinging garlic and holy water. Did either of those hurt Max? You would have to remember to ask him later.

“I told you I’d check up on you.”

You didn’t know what to expect from your father lately, but when he said he needed to speak to you privately the last person you expected to join in was Mr. Yates--the immigration officer from New York. You stopped so abruptly that Max bumped into your back and if it weren’t for his chest you probably would have fallen down. Mr. Yates was just as stern and cold as he had been when you first met him back in the city. Which now felt like a lifetime ago.

“Dad,” you breathed quietly in disbelief. “What did you do?”

“I got a call from Mr. Yates here,” your father gestured to the older man. “And he told me what’s going on. That Max is being deported.”

“And?” you snapped bitterly. Max’s hand came to the small of your back and you fought the strong desire to lean into him. Being angry felt good, better than hysterical, you wanted to hang onto that anger.

“And?? That explains all of this, sweetheart!” You dad said, throwing his hands in the air. “You have despised this man for five years. You would never just up and marry him for no reason--he’s forcing you to so he can have a green card!”

When he gestured to Max, you heard the younger man growl quietly behind you. If they didn’t calm down, you were all about to get a show.

“That’s not true--”

“Now, he told me that if you’re lying,” he continued, talking over you. “And he strongly believes that you are--you’ll go to prison. So, I flew him up here.”

“Dad!” You were outraged to say the least. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you looked between the two men in front of you and you couldn’t seem to decide who you wanted to hit first. Of all the things your father had done over the years, this one really took the cake.

“Luckily for you,” Mr. Yates spoke, stepping forward and putting his hands in his pockets. “Your father negotiated a deal on your behalf. Now, listen closely young lady--”

“ _Young lady_?”

“This deal is going to last exactly twenty seconds and I want you to choose wisely.” He puffed out his chest and stared you down. “You’re going to make a statement, admitting that this marriage is a sham, or you’re going to go to prison. You tell the truth,” he shrugged. “You’re off the hook. And he,” he paused to point accusingly at Max. “Can go back to Romania.”

You felt Max’s hand fall away from you gently. He didn’t want to be touching you when you chose to save yourself. He didn’t think he could bear it. But after everything, the fact that he still thought there was a chance that you would throw him to the wolves, hurt your heart. Max had been betrayed by everyone who he had ever cared about, so, somewhere along the way he had stopped caring. You grit your teeth and knew without any doubt, that line of pain ended with you.

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head and your dad’s eyes went wide.

“Honey, are you insane? Take the deal!”

“No.”

“Don’t be stupid--” Mr. Yates started but you cut him off.

“You want a statement? Here’s your statement.” You took a step forward and fought the urge to poke him in the chest. “Five years ago I took a job offer and started working for Max Phillips. Six months ago we started dating. Two weeks ago he asked me to marry him and I said ‘ _YES_ ’.”

“Honey--”

“We’ll see you at the wedding.”

Before they could say another word, you grabbed Max by the hand and stormed out. As the door creaked closed behind you, your hands started to shake. It was hard to breathe. Your dad had invited the feds to your wedding. He had flown up the one man that could destroy everything. Once again the threat of prison loomed in front of you, and once again you lied in its face. You grit your teeth and made a beeline for the house, thankful you had Max at your side to keep you standing.

\--

You stood with your hands on the counter of the bathroom vanity and stared down into the sink. Your chest felt tight and your shoulders shook as you finally gave in and let a few tears slip down your cheeks. Everything had been going according to plan. You had been so close. So close to this whole thing going off without a hitch and then your father had to stick his nose into it and ruin it. He would say he was trying to protect you, trying to do what was right, but how did he know if he didn’t come to you first? The thing was it was very clear that what you wanted would never be what was right in his eyes, and now Max was at risk too.

You had turned on the shower to cover up the sounds of your tears and to try and convince yourself to clean up before dinner, but all that had done was fog up the mirror. When the door opened you looked over your shoulder and saw Max.

“Oh, shit,” you said, wiping quickly at your face. “Do you need in here? I’m just--I needed a minute--”

He didn’t say anything. He just closed the door and took two steps towards you. His fingers pulled on the hem of your shirt and turned you around to press you back against the sink. You needed to apologize. If he had picked someone else, anyone else, this would have been easier for him. But you couldn't manage to do anything right lately and if the two of you got in trouble it would be all your fault.

"Max, I'm sorry," you sobbed quietly, voice croaking in a pathetic attempt to keep your emotions at bay. "We should have never come here. We should have just gone to the courthouse like you wanted in New York. This could have all been over and done with if it wasn't for me--"

His face made you believe he hadn't heard a single word that came out of your mouth. He balled his fists into the hem of your shirt and pressed himself against you, pushing the flesh of your ass into the counter top. His mouth was almost bruisingly firm as he kissed you and when you froze he gave you a moment to adjust. To comply or push him away.

"You should have taken the deal."

"What?"

"The deal from that prick from I.N.S.--you should have taken it," he mumbled and your heart dropped.

"Why would you say that?" You asked, feeling your throat get tight all over again.

"I'm not worth jail time, sweetheart."

Oh. "I couldn't. I can't let them send you away. Max--"

You breathed his name against his lips and when you moved your hands up to cup his face it was all over. Raising your arms, he jerked your t-shirt up over your head and tossed it. You did the same to his as he went for your jeans. Each of you pulling and tugging in a frenzy of fingers and clothing. It was as if he needed more hands, if only to be able to touch your entire body at the same time.

"I meant it," he finally spoke in a deep, soft tone. "I can't think of anyone else I'd rather commit fraud with."

"Smooth talker…"

You laughed through the last few tears that we're still blurring your vision as you put your arms around his neck. He secured his own grasp around your middle and the two of you fumbled your way back into the shower.

The water was too hot, and you knew that if you both had your way and you started fucking, that much steam would have been suffocating. You reached back to adjust the knobs as Max went to his knees in front of you. He gave you just enough time to catch yourself on the wall as he tossed your left leg over his shoulder and buried his face in the most intimate part of you.

"Max!" You gasped as you leaned your head back against the porcelain wall. Your other hand went to his hair and your fingers cradled the back of his head as you gripped it. It had been a very long time since someone had done this.

"I wanna taste you," he said over the noise of the shower and you nodded desperately.

"Please, please, you can--" you didn't even seem to care how desperate you were for him. You had made peace with the fact that Max Phillips was the only friend you seemed to have right now. And, you had meant what you said about not being able to let him be sent back to Romania. To possibly never see him again? The idea hurt too much to think about. You may not have been ready to unpack exactly what that meant, but you knew you didn’t want him out of your life. At least not anymore.

His large hand gripped the front in your thigh, keeping you spread for him and his mouth made contact with your cunt. He nosed your pubic mound, tenderly parting a path through your curls until he reached your labia with his teeth. It made you jolt as he bit your folds gently before soothing the sharpness with a wet suck to each side.

"Fuck," you whispered, leaning your head back and grinding against his face. When you realized what you were doing, you stopped. "I'm sorry."

"No, keep going," he ordered as his hands went behind you to grip your ass and encourage you. “Feel good?”

“Yeah…”

“Then let it feel good.”

You gripped his hair, drawing a groan from him that vibrated against you and made you bite your lip. Looking down you saw the water pouring down your body and the muscles of his back, it was a good thing Max didn't need to breathe otherwise you would have been concerned.

The heel of your foot dug into the middle of his back and you whimpered as he turned his attention to your clit. It was good. So good. But it wasn't what you wanted.

"I need--fuck," you panted.

"Tell me."

"I need you inside me."

Max smirked and you swore you could feel it against your pussy and you fought the urge to squeeze his head between your thighs. But knowing Max, he would have liked it.

"I think I want you to cum just like this," Max cooed as he used his fingers to spread your folds and lick you greedily and slow with the flat, broad part of his tongue.

"Max Phillips, you're a fucking tease," you whined and slapped your palm against the wall as your hips bucked against his face.

"Turn around."

He leaned his head back to speak and the look on his face made your entire body feel warm from the inside out. With his hands on your hips to guide you, you turned away from him, putting yours hands up and leaning your forehead against the cool shower wall. You couldn't help but push your ass back a little to tease him, but like with all forms of teasing, he met them head on as a challenge. He grabbed two handfuls of your ass and spread you enough to lick from the end of your pussy all the way up over the tight ring of muscle, to the small of you back.

"Shit!" You yelped loudly as he stood up and pressed his body flush against the back of yours.

He chuckled deeply. "Hush. You want the whole house to hear you?"

Your dad already wanted to deport him. You hated to think what would happen if your family heard him fucking you in the shower. Leaning into him, you reached your hand back to play your nails at the nape of his neck. He moved your hair out of his way so he could kiss the side of your throat greedily. He kissed and licked and bit in a way that gave you goosebumps all over and put a pleasurable tightness in your stomach.

“Max?” you hummed as he put his hand under your thigh and lifted your leg. You put your foot on the small ledge that usually held the soap bottles as he rubbed his cock against your ass.

“Yeah, babe?” He paused, reaching between your legs to tenderly rub his fingers along your slit.

“Would you--do you want to, I mean,” you let out a huff and kept your hold on him, strengthening your resolve. “It’s okay if you bite me.”

“I thought I had been--” he tried to make a joke out of it with a laugh but you cut him off.

“You know what I meant.”

Max froze behind you. His grip on your hips, nearly bruising, as he let out a small, uncharacteristically weak sound. He rested his forehead on the back of your shoulder. “You don’t want that.”

“How do you know?” you whispered, looking over your shoulder at him. “Does it hurt?”

“ _Sweetheart_ …”

“I mean it.”

He let out a heavy sigh and slid his arm around your middle, giving you a firm squeeze back against his chest. “No, it shouldn’t hurt. Especially if I do it during sex.”

“Oh.”

“And, yes, I want to,” he admitted against your skin, giving you another squeeze. “You smell so fucking good I can hardly stand it. But I can’t, not yet. You are...different.”

“What do you mean?” You put your hand over his arm around you. “You mean why you can’t hypnotize me?” He stayed quiet but the way he stiffened behind you spoke louder than words. “You know why. Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, nodding against your shoulder.

“Why?”

“It’s a rule that you’re not able to hypnotize people you care about, as long as the feeling is mutual. I always thought it was bullshit, but apparently I just haven’t cared about anyone in...” he chuckled and pressed his lips to your skin. “In a very long time.”

You gripped his hand and wanted so badly to see his face but also didn’t dare to move, as if it might scare him away. And who knew with Max, it very well could. “When did you figure it out?”

“When you made me get on my knees back in New York.” He chuckled again and you smiled, remembering that image quite vividly.

“You’re telling me in five years of me working for you, that was the first time you had tried to hypnotize me?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Never had a reason to. I actually kind of liked the shit you gave me on the regular.”

You were quiet as you processed what he was telling you. In half of a decade of working together, he had never tried to manipulate you the way that you knew he could. But why? Max Phillips continued to surprise you and part of you wanted to keep poking for answers, keep prodding him until he told you every bit of the truth. But the other part of you just wanted to stay right here with him, never leaving whatever limbo of a moment the two of you had been in this entire trip.

Reaching a hand behind you, you pulled him flush against your back once again by a hand on his hip. He took the hint, bending his knees slightly and rubbing the head of his still hard cock through your folds.

His face came up over your shoulder and you turned your head to groan softly as he bottomed out inside of you. You smiled a little as he opened his eyes and returned it. He bucked his hips against your ass, thrusting up inside you hard enough to make you whimper. As he repeated the action, you put your hand up to steady yourself and used your other one to lace your fingers with his over your stomach.

“I got you,” he mumbled, his voice vibrating against your back.

Max Philips may have had the rest of the world fooled but the way he fucked you told you what no one else seemed to know. He was attentive. He was a giver. He put the best parts of himself into the way he caressed your body as if he got just as much enjoyment from your pleasure as you did.

“Don’t let me slip,” you laughed softly, readjusting your foot on the ledge as he continued to thrust rhythmically against you.

“Of course not,” he chuckled as he lowered his other hand towards the apex of your thighs. “I have a feeling if you fell right now, you’d be taking me with you.”

“And you would be absolutely fucking right.” You leaned back to rest your head on his shoulder and gripped his hand. “Such a smart man.”

“Who knew all it took to get you to compliment me were a few good orgasms?” he boasted.

“Shut up,” you bit your lip and moaned, letting your eyes slip shut as he hit a particularly good spot with the head of his dick. His hand dipped lower and your voice came out as an almost pathetic whisper. “ _Please_ , Max.”

“You know that’s my new favorite thing,” he groaned against the shell of your ear. When he felt your goosebumps he angled you both back under the warm water, his fingers playing softly against your clit.

“I know.” You sighed as he pressed his finger between the top of your folds and started to rub small circles. Your thighs clenched around his wrist as your cunt tightened around his cock. You were close. So close. And the fact that Max was this good at making you cum was slightly infuriating. But when it came to him, there was a lot that was infuriating. Not all of it in a bad way.

“Right there?” he asked, lightly biting your ear lobe. When you nodded he moved down to bite at your neck, the solid press of his fangs a purposeful tease that made your heart speed up. “Come on. I want to feel you.”

“I’m really close,” you whined.

“I know you are,” he cooed, continuing to nip and suck gently at your neck. “Come on, come on--good girl.”

That did it. You came. Leaning your head forward against the shower, the water ran down your shoulders and you felt him join you with a grunt. He spilled between your legs and slipped out of you as the water almost made you lose your footing. Max continued to roll your clit between his fingers to guide you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck--” you gasped as your thighs tightened around his hand and your knees buckled.

“Easy. Come here, baby,” he caught you and supported you as your pelvis continued to grind against his hand. “You got another one for me?” he teased and you reached down to try and bat his hand away.

“It’s too much. I can’t--”

“Sure you can,” he said, and he pressed harder.

“Max!” you shrieked, laughing as you felt him grinning against your temple. You pulled on his hand and he let it fall from between your legs, allowing you to slump against him.

“You’re no fun--”

“Say that to my face, Mr. Phillips.”

You turned in his arms before he had a chance to pout and kissed him deeply. Once you were firmly pressed against him, he moved you both back under the water and moaned contently. In order to wash your hair, you had to stop kissing--and that was something neither of you seemed to be able to do. By the time you eventually reached for the soap, the water had gotten cold.

\--

You sat on the loveseat watching the flames from the fireplace flicker on the stone in the middle of your ring from Max. You wanted to ask him how he knew your size, or why he picked the ring he did--but once again those questions fell into that category of not wanting to ruin whatever was happening between you.

Tomorrow was it. Tomorrow was the beginning of the end in the sense that this would all be over and you would have succeeded. You would marry Max, go back to New York, get your promotion, get a quick divorce, and he would get to stay in the States like he wanted. That’s what you wanted, too, right? Right. Everything was going to work out and it was so close you could almost taste it.

“Tomorrow is the big day.” Max said as he came out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel before tossing it into the hamper. “You still sure about this?”

_Not really._ “Yeah,” you nodded with a smile as you curled your legs under you and he came to sit next to you. He let his arm drape behind your back, over the edge, and you automatically leaned into him. “Why do you ask?”

There was no way on Earth that Max Phillips would ever get married for real. And entertaining the idea that this was something more than what it was would set you up for a world of heartache. Stick to the plan. If you didn’t think about what would happen once you went back to New York, the two of you could continue to fuck and laugh and kiss and--...but that wasn’t the plan either. You were so off course compared to where you were a week ago that nothing made sense.

“I mean, I am very appreciative, of what you've done,” Max sighed and you watched his fist in his lap clench and unclench. “But I think that--”

_Stay with me._ “You'd do the same for me. Right?” you cut him off with a shrug, trying your best to act indifferent.

“Of course.”

“Because trust me,” you held up your hands for emphasis. “You’ll never find another secretary to put up with your bullshit.”

“ _Executive assistant._ ” He corrected you and you gave him an impressed look.

“Look at you,” you pressed his chest playfully and nodded your head. When he didn’t joke back, you felt your heart fall to your feet. He grabbed your hand and held it tightly. “What’s wrong?”

Max’s face remained serious and he opened his mouth to respond but a knock at the door stopped him.

“Hope everyone is decent!” Your grandma called as she opened the door slowly and came in. Her big, kind smile was impossible to return, and both you and Max mirrored it, shaking off the awkwardness of whatever he was about to say. She came over to the couch and reached for your hand. “You need to come with me, dear.”

“Wait, what?” you asked as she pulled you to your feet. “Why?”

“You’re getting married tomorrow!” she said as if that explained everything. “You have to give the Baby Maker blanket a rest tonight. It's tradition.”

“Nana,” you protested as she pulled you towards the door.

“We're not gonna use the Baby Maker. You have my word--” Max chuckled while trying to argue, but the old woman waved him away as she leaned down and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek.

“Even so,” she said. “You both need a good night’s rest.”

“I don’t think--” Max started.

“Give your bride a kiss good night, Max,” she insisted. “You've got your whole lives to be together! One night of sleep won’t hurt. This way it’ll be a surprise when you’re all dressed tomorrow! Come along.”

“Okay, fine, Nana, fine!” you said exasperatedly and the old woman ignored your tone.

“Now, come on. Chop, chop,” she continued to babble as she left through the door and down the hall, knowing you would follow.

You and Max stood in the middle of the room and stared at each other helplessly. Your heart felt like a rock in your chest and you had so much to say, but were at a loss on how to say it.

“What were you saying before she came in?” you asked after a moment of silence.

“Huh?” he said, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweats. “Uh--it’s okay. It’s...not important.”

“Oh,” you crossed your arms under your breasts and nodded. Forcing a small smile, you tilted your head to the door. “You know--if I don't go with her, she's just gonna--”

“Come right back,” he agreed as his lips tilted up in a grin.

“Yeah,” you breathed weakly.

“See you in the morning?” he asked, his voice holding a soft hopefulness that made you want to reach out and touch him.

“Absolutely,” you nodded, “You better look sharp.” You paused at the door and gave him a wink and forced yourself to leave before you lost the strength to do so.

\--

Max laid on the bed, now seemingly way too big that you weren’t in it, with his arms behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. The fire died down little by little, quietly popping off to the side as he thought about you. About sleeping on the floor, your late night talks, your lips. The night you asked him to sleep in the bed, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so giddy. He hated that he used that word but there was nothing else for it. Like a kid on Christmas morning, jumping under the blankets and having you so close to him.

Then there was the way you sighed his name while he fucked you. The confessions and questions you had in the shower were almost too much. You wanted him. But not just the pretty, polished salesman version that everyone wanted--you wanted him. And that scared him beyond belief.

He left the door cracked, hoping you would defy your grandmother’s wishes and sneak back to him in the middle of the night. When it opened ever so slightly he looked up with a smile.

“Hey--oh,” he said, face falling as he looked down at a familiar, very fluffy, face.

Kevin the dog trotted into the room and looked up at Max. His small feet and short legs made quick work of walking across the hardwood and jumping up onto the bed without pretense. Max looked at him with wide eyes, careful to not make any sudden movements in case the twenty pound cluster of dryer sheets decided to attack.

The Shiba hopped up and rooted around on your side of the bed, getting the blankets just right before plopping down and looking at Max expectantly. Max looked around the room as if he was about to be pranked, as if the dog was communicating with someone else in the room, before raising his eyebrow in disbelief.

“What? Are we friends now?” Max asked skeptically as the animal inched closer to him. “You know, you bite me and I will bite you back.”

Kevin nudged Max’s hand with his nose incessantly until he gave him a gentle scratch between the ears. Max ran a hand down his face and sighed.

“Fuck.” That settled it.

He reached over with the arm that wasn’t occupied with petting Kevin and grabbed his phone off of the nightstand. He debated his next move, slowly scrolling through his contacts before eventually tapping the one he needed. It rang a lot before the other line picked up. Shit. He had forgotten how late it was already in New York.

_“Max?”_

“Hey, Ted. Yeah, it’s me.” Max closed his eyes and let out another long sigh. “Sorry it’s so late.”

_“Everything okay?”_

“No, not really,” Max said, looking back down at the dog who had quietly fallen asleep. “There’s some stuff I gotta tell you.”


	11. The Wedding & The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Max made it to the alter. Everything is about to go perfectly according to plan–until a change of heart and impromptu confession calls the whole thing off. 
> 
> We are so close guys. It’s gonna hurt before it gets better.

Sometime in the middle of the night it had started snowing. Big, fluffy flakes slowly fell and twinkled in the early morning sunrise, making it a perfect day for an Alaskan wedding. You felt more like a hostage than a bride, however, as your family all but demanded you stayed in your room to maintain the element of surprise. They brought you breakfast, your dress, makeup bag, but as you sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed you wished they would bring you Max. **  
**

He had almost said something the night before. Hadn’t he? It seemed every time he wanted to tell you something important, he got interrupted, or was too nervous to get the words out. Nervous? Max Phillips? No. There was no way. You were projecting your own complicated feelings onto Max in a desperate hope that he felt the same way about you that you did about him. But how did you feel about him? At this point, you weren’t even sure. 

Did you love him? No. Maybe? You definitely didn’t want him out of your life or back to the way things were. Things would never be the way they used to be. He was no longer the cold and unfeeling bastard that sat behind his desk and made your life hell. Perhaps when you both got back to New York he would revert back to his old ways. The clock would strike midnight and he would become the metaphorical fanged pumpkin, changing back into a bespoke-suit jackass. No way. You couldn’t see that either. 

You smoothed your hands down your dress and traced a finger along the beaded embroidery of the bodice. Max would love it. His large fingers tracing over the lace as the two of you danced–you shook your head, trying to shove down such silly images. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t a real marriage. And you were not the blushing bride or doting husband. This. Was. Pretend. 

Despite the temperature outside, you had chosen a dress that accentuated your tits. You’d bear the cold just to see the look on his face when you showed up to a winter wedding with bare shoulders and a sweetheart neckline. The thought made you laugh quietly to yourself, because no matter what had happened this week, Max was still Max. You were still you. And the two of you could figure this out and argue your way through it together. That’s how you did everything else. 

A knock at your door brought your attention to it as you stood up and gathered your skirts. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

You felt yourself stop breathing as Max’s voice came from the other side of the door and you hurried to it. When you tried to pull the handle, it stopped, only allowing the door open a few inches. You pulled again and it stayed firm. Max was keeping his hand on the door handle. 

“Your grandma would kill me if she knew I saw you before the wedding,” he chuckled but it was humorless.

“Max, come on–” you tried to argue.

“Listen, I needed to tell you something before the wedding.” His voice was stern and the way he kept a handle on what you assumed to be desperation, made you stop talking. “I haven’t seen you all morning and it’s been driving me crazy.”

“Me too,” you agreed quietly as you put your hand on the door where you imagined him to be and leaned your body against it. “Is this about last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me something. Before my grandma came in,” you bit your lip and swear he could hear your heart hammering in your chest. 

Max paused for a minute and you wished you could have seen his face. “No. It’s–it’s something else." 

“Are you okay?” you worried.

“I’m fine.” The door stayed firmly in place but he moved his fingers around the edge and you touched them gently. You heard him sigh softly and he moved his hand just enough to envelop your fingers with his. "Evan was right.”

“Evan?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” he said flatly. “You should have been promoted a long time ago.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Yeah, I know that Max–”

“But I denied all of the promotion offers on purpose.” He said quickly and you felt like the other shoe had just dropped on your face. “I knew giving you what you deserved meant losing you as an assistant.”

“You didn’t promote me so you could keep me as your secretary?” you asked, your voice going a little shrill towards the end as you thought off all you had done for him over the last five years. “You selfish, son of a–”

“I know. I know.” He cut you off and you yanked on the door but he held it shut with ease. “But that doesn’t matter now, because when you get back to New York, they’re going to offer you a job with four years of back pay and I want you to take it.”

“What job?” you snapped.

“Irrelevant.”

“Max–”

“Tell me you’ll take it. You deserve it and I need to know you’ll tell them ‘yes’.”

“Max–”

“Tell me.”

“Yes. Fine. Okay. I’ll take the job.” You knew your tone was overly exasperated but the sigh of relief he let out was enough to make your chest ache. 

“See you at the altar, sweetheart.” He said quietly and you bit your lip. “Don’t stand me up.” His teasing tone was back in his voice and you just needed to touch him. Slap him. Hug him. You hadn’t decided which–maybe both. But you needed to make sure he really was okay and this wasn’t just a facade to hide whatever he wasn’t telling you. 

He let go of the door and you took a breath before pulling it open as fast as you could and stepping out into the hallway. But he was already gone. 

–

“All good to go?” you mother said, rubbing your arms for reassurance and a bit of warmth. 

“I kind of want to throw up,” you said with a force laugh as you adjusted your grip on the small bouquet in your hands–white roses and bluebells. Subtle, elegant, winter flowers. 

“You’ll be fine,” she said, giving you a quick kiss on both of your cheeks. “It wouldn’t be your wedding day if you didn’t feel like vomiting, dear.”

“And what happens if I do?” you asked with seriousness.

“Vomit?” she laughed. “Aim for the floor. And if you fall, smile and push your tits up.” That got you to laugh back and it made her smile. “The hard part is over, honey. It’s smooth sailing from here on out.”

“What if we get divorced?” you blurted out and her smile fell a bit before shaking her head.

“Honey, if I haven’t divorced your father then you and Max won’t have any trouble at all.” She licked her thumb and tucked a stray strand of hair back into place. “Don’t condemn something before it even starts. You have made it five years without staking the man, surely there is a reason you said yes when he asked you to marry him.”

Her words were rhetorical and even if they weren’t, it wasn’t like you could tell her the truth. 

“But what if–”

“Stop.” She gripped your shoulders and looked you in the eyes. “This is a happy thing. Don’t worry yourself with what-ifs.”

She gave you a quick once over and another hug, careful not to mess up your hair, before squeezing your hands. When she started to walk back towards the main area of the barn to give the signal that you were ready, you called out to her.

“Mom?” 

“Yes?” she stopped at the door and looked back at you kindly. 

“How does Max look?” you asked, not knowing what else to say.

She smiled and relaxed her shoulders a little. “Very, very handsome.”

You returned her smile and adjusted your grip on the flowers in your hands. “Thanks mom…for everything.”

–

The music was quiet and you were thankful that everyone remained seated as you walked down the aisle that was already littered with white rose petals. You hated being the center of attention. And yet here you were, on what some would say was one of the biggest days of your life, had any of it been real. The snow fell quietly outside the windows on the pines, catching the glow of the twinkle lights that were still strung up from the party your mom had thrown. You focused on the one person that you wished you could be alone with right now. Max. If only you could make everyone disappear and the two of you could remain.

Your mother had been right, Max looked incredibly handsome. But when didn’t he? 

Your grandmother had done an excellent job tailoring the dark blue suit to fit his frame. When you realized it was your grandfather’s suit, it made your chest tight. This was wrong. This was all wrong. He had forgone the tie in favor of having the first few buttons undone on his soft, white undershirt, all tied together by the white flower pinned to his chest. He smiled at you, looking as relieved as you felt to finally see you after spending the night apart, but there was something else. Something in his soft brown eyes that let you know that the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach was also in his. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he mouthed quietly as you handed your flowers off to your mom in the first row and took Max’s outstretched hand.

“Hey,” you said back in the same tone as you took his hands in front of you and looked up at him. “I didn’t stand you up.”

“No, you sure didn’t,” he sighed quietly. 

The way he said that made your heart uneasy. Something was wrong. But as the local ordained minister, and more importantly, long time family friend, stood with the two of you and smiled at the crowd of seated people, you knew you couldn’t ask him here.

“Thank you everyone for coming,” the man in front of you said as he smiled and nodded to your parents. “This is exciting!”

You held Max’s hands and shifted your weight over to your other foot just wanting this to be over with already. He gripped your hands back and stepped a fraction of an inch closer to you. Maybe he expected you to faint? Fall over onto the floor? You weren’t entirely sure that you wouldn’t at this point. 

“We are gathered here today to give thanks and to celebrate one of life’s greatest moments,” the officiant said with another large smile. “To give recognition to the beauty, honesty, and unselfish ways of true love in front of family and friends.”

The crowd gave a soft sigh of adoration and you glanced at your mother to see her gently dabbing her eyes with a cloth handkerchief, careful not to smudge any of her makeup. Fuck. Your own eyes burned and you shut them tightly. You would not cry. You refused to cry. This wasn’t real. But that made it so much worse. Because it was real for everyone but the two of you. Real for your mom, and your dad, and your grandmother…

Max shifted uncomfortably and brought your attention back to him. His face was set in a hard grimace and if you didn’t know any better, you would have said he looked a little green around the gills. If you fainted and Max puked, that would have been the least shocking thing about this wedding. 

The officiant continued. “For it is their family and friends who taught them to love. So, it is only right that family and friends are all…”

If they said that phrase one more time you were going to scream. But you wouldn’t have to. The words stopped abruptly and Max shut his eyes tightly and cursed under his breath. He let go of both of your hands and put one of them up in a stopping motion.

“Wait–”

“Yes?” the minister asked in surprise. 

“Max…” you warned in a whisper. 

“Can’t it wait?”

“No,” Max shook his head and rubbed his eyes with a defeated chuckle. “No, it can’t.” He gripped your fingers and kissed your knuckles for what felt like the last time. 

“Don’t do this,” you pleaded as you tried to grab his hands again but he carefully avoided your reach.

He turned to the crowd of people, holding his hands out in front of him on display and grinned. The grin made you sick to your stomach. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t the real him. The Max you had seen in the last week slowly faded away and left in his place was his carefully crafted salesman persona. “Hi everyone.”

“Hi.” A few members of the crowd responded in unison and you looked at your mother who was looking at Max with a slack jaw. 

“Thank you all so much for coming out,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking forward a bit on the balls of his feet. “I… have a bit of an announcement to make–a confession, actually.”

“What are you doing?” you hissed desperately, gripping the skirts of your dress as you took a step towards him. He ignored you. 

“As some of you know, I’m a vampire–” a few gasps came from the older members of your family and he nodded like he had been expecting that reaction. “Yeah, yeah, I know. And I’m a vampire without proper documentation apparently, so, I was about to be deported.”

“You son of a bitch,” your dad said from the first row.

“Dad!” you scolded. Looking up, you saw Mr. Yates standing in the back with a smirk and you wanted to slap it off of his face.

“It’s alright,” Max assured you, looking over his shoulder at you gently, ignoring your father. And you see in order for that not to happen I forced her to marry me.” 

“Max, stop it,” you pleaded, but he just gave you a small smile and continued.

“See, your girl here has always had this extraordinary work ethic.” Max clenched both of his fists in front of him for emphasis before turning his attention back to your parents in the front row. “Something I think she learned from you.”

“Max, please,” you tried even though you knew it was useless. 

“And for five years I watched her work harder than anyone else at our company. And I knew that if I threatened to destroy her career…” he put his hands back in his pockets and shrugged. “…she would, well, she would do just about anything.”

You felt the first tear slip down your cheek at his words. He sounded so cold, so indifferent to what he was saying, if it weren’t for the slight shakiness in his tone you would have thought that he had meant none of what happened this week. But you knew differently. He was saving you. Just you. You shut your eyes tightly and wished you could press rewind, go back and make things happen differently.

“So, I blackmailed her to come up here and to lie to you.” Max looked pointedly from your mother to your grandmother. “All of you.” 

“Oh, Max,” your grandma said, wringing her soft, wrinkled hands in her lap and looking away from him in hurt. 

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “And I thought it would be easy to watch her do it. But it wasn’t. Turns out it’s not easy to ruin someone’s life–” he paused and looked back at you with those soft, amber colored eyes that you loved so much. “Once you find out how wonderful they are.”

You reached for him but he stepped down off of the stage and you let your arms fall back to your sides in defeat. He walked up to the first row of chairs and looked down at your mom.

“You have a beautiful family. Don’t let this come between you.” He put his hand to his chest and finished in a serious tone. “This was my fault.”

“Max.” You raised your voice and he turned back to look at you. His lips trembled as he saw the silent tears slowly trailing down your cheeks. 

“Sweetheart, this was a business deal,” he said, matter-of-factly. “And you held up your end, but now the deal is off. I’m sorry.”

You picked up your dress so you didn’t trip and hurried down the steps but your father stood abruptly and stepped in your way. Max made a bee-line for the back of the barn and stopped in front of Mr. Yates. Max towered over him and grit his teeth and he pointed at him, almost poking the INS agent in the chest.

“And you, meet me at the dock,” Max snarled. “You’re giving me a ride to the airport.”

“You got it,” the other man said with a nod.

Max pushed open the double doors forcefully, letting the cold air into the warmth of the makeshift altar. The snow still fell quietly as you watched him walk out in it, leaving you completely alone in a room full of the people who should have known you best. 

–

The door slammed shut behind you as you made it back to the house. Your father’s footsteps pounded the hardwood behind you as your family followed you into the living room. You gripped your dress, using the texture of the lace to ground you as your heart and mind raced in unison with what to do next. 

“What were you thinking!” your dad shouted. It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation. 

“I don’t,” you stopped and shook your head. “I don’t know.” You felt like a child again. It was a pathetic excuse and you knew it. When you agreed to marry Max for the sake of him not being deported, you knew exactly what you were doing. The consequences just hadn’t been important. 

“You don’t know?” he barked and rolled his eyes. “That’s not an excuse–”

“And what’s your excuse, hmm?” you spat back at him, throwing your hands up in the air. “You were ready to throw us both to the wolves yesterday! At least Max–” you voice caught in your throat as you said his name. “At least Max tried to–”

“What are you talking about?” your mother looked between you and your father, clearly torn by being in the middle of the two of you. 

“Nothing.”  
“Nothing.”

You both said at once and she knew you were lying by she didn’t push it. Your grandmother came up to you slowly and put her hands on your arm, making you look down at her. 

“Honey, you lied to us,” she said gently and your eyes quickly welled up with tears at her forgiving nature. 

“I know,” you nodded, giving her hand a squeeze. “Let me get my head on straight, okay? I’ll explain everything later. I’m sorry.” You pushed the edges of your skirts together and hurried up the stairs to your bedroom.

The door clicked behind you and you felt your shoulders drop in relief. It felt good to be alone. To have the silence to clear your head. The relief was short lived however as you looked around and realized that all of Max’s things were gone. The suit he had worn was hung neatly on a hanger and left on the armoire, a hurtful reminder of just how handsome he had looked up on that altar. 

“Max?” you said hopefully, hurrying to the bathroom just in case. 

His shoulder bag with his premade smoothies was gone, along with his toiletries and the large suitcase that had sat on his side of the bed. The emptiness of the once cozy shared space made an involuntary sob come from your throat as you put your hands to your mouth and tried to stop it. He left. He had really left. 

You looked to the bed and thought about the way he held you, kissed you, fucked you. Was he really going to throw it all away? Was Max fucking Phillips giving up what he wanted? You wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told you weeks ago that this was how it would play out. Or perhaps he was being a coward. Perhaps it was easier for him to uproot his entire life to another country than to face how he really felt about you? Now that, that you believed. The thought made you roll your eyes. 

While looking at the bed, you noticed the brightly colored, handmade ‘baby maker’ quilt had been folded neatly at the foot of the bed. It served as a backdrop for the items that had been carefully placed on top–the wooden box with your grandfather’s cuff-links and a note.

With shaky hands, you unfolded it and started crying all over again. Fuck. 

You clutched the letter and were torn between ripping it to shreds and saving it for as long as you needed to. You had to reread the last line multiple times as each time you reached the nickname you both loathed because of its vulgarity and loved because it was so Max, your tears blurred your vision too much for it to be legible. He cared about you. He had to. But he was a coward. A coward and a fool! 

“Asshole!” you screeched as you threw the letter onto the bed and looked at the ring on your finger. “Fucking asshole!” The ruby in the gold setting seemed to be taunting you. 

“Honey?” your mom said as she opened your door. The sound made you jump and put a hand to your chest. “I didn’t mean to–I knocked, but…”

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” you waved her away, rubbing furiously at your eyes as she walked in and quietly shut the door behind her. 

“You know, people are gonna be talking about this forever,” she laughed softly, trying to make a joke, but when you didn’t smile, she stepped closer.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, I know. The scandal of the century.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, and you let out a breath filled with bitterness.

“Yeah, of course I am,” you started, crossing your arms under your breasts and looking at the letter on the bed. “No. I mean–I just feel…you know what the problem is?”

“Go on,” she nodded encouragingly as you clenched your fists at your sides.

“You see, the problem is that this man,” you pointed to the bed and grit your teeth. “This arrogant, selfish, bastard of a man…is a gigantic pain in my ass!” You pace to the window, lacing your fingers and resting your hands on your head so you can breathe. “First there’s the whole leaving thing. I understand that. It’s a sham wedding–it should have never happened…”

“But you do look lovely,” she offers and you nod your thanks before you stomp back over to the bed.

“But then he goes ahead and he leaves this note!” You pick up the piece of paper and shake it at her, your heart racing, your cheeks hot. You can practically feel the steam coming from your ears. “Because he doesn’t have the decency, no, the _humanity_ to do it to my face!”

“Well, he technically isn’t human, dear–”

“Five years! Five years I work for this…this terrorist–never once has he had a genuine thing to say, and then he goes ahead and he writes this crap! The audacity–”

“Honey–”

“None of that matters. None of that fucking matters. We had a deal!”

“Honey–”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I just…” you let out a long, heavy, shuddering breath. “He just makes me a little crazy.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” She moved to stand in front of you and put your face in her gentle hands. She gave you a warm, motherly smile as she leaned down and planted a soft kiss on your forehead. “So, you’re just gonna let him go?” 

She was right. God dammit, she was right. You were not about to let Max Fucking Phillips have the last word. You gave her a tight hug and grabbed your sneakers.


	12. The Chase & The Second Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max Fucking Phillips is not getting the last word. You are. You have chased after him for almost five thousand miles, you have a lot to say, and god dammit he is going to listen.   
> We've come full circle people. I promised you guys a happy ending and I reworked everything to make this one big chapter instead of another cliffhanger. I also have added a bunch of stuff to Chapter 13 that I didn’t intend to but GDI I want them to kiss some more.

“So, what now?” Max said as he looked through the sky mall magazine for the hundredth time in order to avoid the smug stare of Mr. Yates. 

“Well,” the other man said, signaling the stewardess for another cup of coffee. “Now that you're leaving voluntarily, it all becomes very civilized.”

“Civilized. Mhmph.” Max scoffed as he turned the page and glanced down at his watch. The last time he had been on a plane had been with you. 

"Once we land in New York, you have twenty-four hours to head back to Romania." Mr. Yates leaned back in his seat with a Cheshire grin and laced his fingers behind his head. "Yep. You should've given up back in New York. I'm like Eliot Ness. I always get my man. I'm that good."

“Yeah, a real Dick Tracy,” Max mumbled.

“I know why you finally saw reason though."

"Oh, do you?"

"Yup. It would have been a damn shame for your secretary to have to go to prison. She seems like a sweet girl.” He sipped his coffee and lowered the shade on the window.

Max gripped the magazine so tightly his knuckles turned white. As he shoved it back into the seat pocket in front of him, he looked at the man and wondered how many people would actually miss him if he drained him and left him in an Alaskan alleyway. Most likely enough to land Max in prison, or some kind of macabre public staking.

“Excuse me a moment,” he said before the agent could say another word on things he didn’t understand.

He stood up abruptly and moved past the stewardess, putting a hand on his stomach as he squeezed by the last aisle and into the incredibly small airplane bathroom. Gripping the edge of the sink, he stared at his reflection and let out a shaky breath. He could do this. He needed to stop thinking about you...standing up on that altar...in that beautiful dress--fuck. 

He should have told you more. He should have told you how fucking beautiful you looked. Your hair, your skin, the dress, oh, that goddamn dress. If he had been a betting man, he would have bet money that you had specifically chosen that dress to get a rise out of him. The way that lace framed those perfect tits made his mouth dry. He remembered the way you said his name when he had those tits in his mouth, the way your tender skin felt against his fangs. Your hands in his hair, pulling, spurring him on. 

_“Passengers, the captain has turned on the fasten seat-belt sign if you could please return to your seats and prepare for take off.”_

A pleasant female voice announced over a speaker and Max gripped the sink so tightly he heard the metal groan under his strength. He stretched his jaw, moving it side to side as he looked up into the mirror.

“Get it together, Phillips,” he said to himself.

This was what was right. This was for the best. But goddammit...he was going to miss you. 

\--

“Mom, I’m trying, he’s not answering his phone--” you had said as you slapped your ID down on the glass so the machine could scan it. You scanned the terminal, looking for your gate and heading in a trot to the attendant to check your suitcase.

_“Keep trying, honey.”_

_“Yes, he’s bound to pick up some time.”_

_“I still don’t understand why she’s even doing this.”_

Your mother, grandmother, and dad, respectively, all responded and you rolled your eyes. “Can we not do the Brady Bunch family speakerphone call?” you begged, but it fell on deaf ears as your parents started to argue. 

_“She’s doing this because she needs to tell him and he needs to tell her!”_

_“Tell her what??”_

_“That he loves her! Jesus H. Christ, dear.”_

_“That he loves her?? He left her at the altar.”_

_“If he didn’t love her then he wouldn’t have left!”_

_“That doesn’t make any se--”_

“Enough!” you said, pulling the phone away from your ear and yelling into the receiver. A few people on the jet-way jumped and looked at you in shock. You quickly mumbled your apologies and ducked your head, stepping into the cabin once it was your turn. “Look, I’ll call you when I get to New York.”

All of you hurried through your goodbyes and ‘I love you’s’ as you punched the end button and switched it into airplane mode. As you stuffed your bag into the overhead bin above your seat you thought about all the things you wanted to do when you eventually caught up to Max. 

You knew you wanted to slap him. How dare he put you through this after everything? For five years the two of you had worked together and maintained that company in a way that no one else had, and it was high time that you admitted it. The very notion that he was doing this because he would rather get deported than face his own emotions made you want to scream. But at the same time, you couldn’t think of a single thing that was more on brand for Max Fucking Phillips. Now he thought he just got to leave? Because he couldn’t face the truth. 

But what was the truth? That he loved you? That he cared about you? To some degree Max had always cared about your well being. Maybe not in the sense that he did now, but within the parameters of the fact that he didn’t fire you after a month, and he didn’t want to lose you to a different position. That warped notion of possession had been his idea of caring, but that was the old Max. The new Max, the Max you had seen on this trip, despite what he might want you to think, had finally learned what it meant to be self-sacrificing. 

“Fuck,” you cursed softly under your breath as you imagined what he must be feeling right now. On his way to god-only-knows-where, away from his life, his job, his home, and most importantly...you. 

“Miss? You’re blocking the aisle.” The kind voice of the stewardess came from behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said quickly, ducking down into your seat and out of the way for the other passengers. You let out a heavy breath and rubbed your eyes with exhaustion. Before the attendant could leave, however, you popped your head out over the edge of the seat and raised your hand. “Excuse me--ma’am?”

“Yes?” she turned, folding her hands in front of her with a bright smile.

“Can I have a Bloody Mary?”

\--

There had only been one stop on your journey back to New York. Your layover in Minneapolis hadn’t been short but you had spent all of it running across the longest airport you think you had ever been in. Despite your rush, you managed to only bump into one person and not the barrage of moose statues that seemed to be standing on every corner and entrance to an outlet shop. 

The flight from Minnesota to Newark had been infuriatingly long and full of turbulence. The time-change between locations, the layovers, and depending on if he had found a non-stop or a connecting--you could have been hours behind Max. Not knowing if you were going to even make it in time was making your chest tight with anxiousness. 

You had tried to sleep through the night, you tried to eat, but nothing was working. You even tried to enjoy your overpriced Bloody Mary, but every time you took a sip you thought of Max and the acidic taste of the juice made you want to hurl. You thought of that first plane ride, of answering questions out of the INS book and flopping in his lap just to annoy him while you got buzzed. It hadn’t been long at all and yet you missed the bickering, you missed the jabs, and the jokes, and the touches--you missed _him._

As the sun came up through the clouds, you blinked in order to see out over the land below. You had spent your time using the in-flight WiFi to look up the flights going out of the city to Romania. Luckily, there weren't that many. Unluckily, they were all flying out of JFK, which was across the city and over the river. 

As soon as the wheels touched down at Newark, you grabbed your bag and hurried off the ramp, hitting the redial to Max’s phone. 

It rang and rang before finally, _“You’ve reached Max Phillips, leave your information and I’ll get back to you--”_

“Shit,” you growled in frustration as you tried it again, only to get the same result. “Pick up! Fucking asshole! Do you hear me, you fanged son of a bitch?? Answer your phone!” Yelling into the bottom of your cell phone to no one absolutely made you look insane, but it made you feel better. 

Redial. Click.

_“You’ve reached Max Phillips, leave your information and I’ll get back to you--”_

Beep.

“Listen to me very carefully,” you said into his mailbox as the recording started. “I have your job right? You don’t work for _Dévour_ anymore? Fantastic! Because, when I catch up to your undead ass, I am going to finally slap some sense into you. Five years of slaps--comin’ your way, buddy! Is that alright with you... _slugger_?”

Redial. Click.

_“You’ve reached Max Phillips, leave your information and I’ll get back to you--”_

Beep.

“I realize that you are trying to be selfless. That you are trying to save me--but you want to know what I also think?” you argued with dead air as you hurried through the terminal and out onto the city sidewalk. “I think you’re scared. Scared to admit that we may have started out this week faking everything but somewhere along the way, it got real. And if I’m wrong, then fine, but I deserve you to tell me that to my face.”

Redial. Click.

_“You’ve reached Max Phillips, leave your information and I’ll get back to you--”_

Beep.

“Only the great Max _Fucking_ Phillips would rather get deported than admit that they fucking love someone!” You faltered as the words fell from your mouth and you realized that you meant them. “Shit--” you hung up quickly and shoved the phone into your pocket as you waved your arms in the air. “Taxi!”

\--

You ran as fast as you could, trying not to think about the fact that you were running barefoot through JFK. The bottoms of your feet slapped the tile floor in an unpleasant way but it was faster than it would have been in the pumps that you clutched in your hand. As you approached the giant Departures board, you searched frantically for the non-stops to Romania. There was only one.

“Yes!” You said, realizing that you were in the correct terminal and the gate wasn’t that far away. 

The only thing that stood between you and the biggest mistake of your life was airport security. Your eyes searched through the crowd, looking for him, that brown hair, those beautiful eyes, that stupid bespoke suit that wasn’t truly bespoke but there was no telling him that. He was frustrating. He was unbelievable. He was the most irritating man you had ever known–and you loved him. You loved Max Phillips. Shit.

There it was again. You had said it in your last voicemail and like a foolish teenage girl, the very notion of using the L-word in the same sentence as the name of the man you were chasing down made you both giddy and infuriated.

“Max!” You yelled over the heads of the crowd as you thought you saw his broad shoulders walking towards the gate. “Shit.” You cursed and ran up to the first available TSA podium. 

“Valid ID and plane ticket, ma'am.” The agent said, from her stool as she clicked her pen and held out her hand. You dug through your clutch and slapped your driver’s license into her hand and she looked it over as she continued to hold out her palm. “Ticket?”

“I don’t have one. I just need–”

“If you don’t have a ticket, ma'am, then you can’t get through security." 

“I have been traveling all night from Alaska--”

“I’m sure that must have been a long journey for you--”

“Look,” you put your hands on the podium and dipped your head slightly to look her in the eyes. “I just need to talk to another passenger. His name is Max Phillips. It will take two seconds–”

“I understand that this is probably very important,” she leaned on her elbow and at least tried to give you a look of sympathy, even though it was hardly genuine. “But rules are rules and unless you have a ticket, you are not getting passed this checkpoint. I’m sorry.” She raised her hand and waved her fingers, yelling over your head to the line of other people. “Next!”

You put your license back in your purse and slowly walked away from the security checkpoint. It felt like you were in a fog as you stopped to sit and put your shoes on. Tears of frustration and the eventual realization of failure burned your eyes as you hugged your body and walked towards the sliding glass doors of the exit. 

All of that running. All of that time spent chasing him over four thousand miles and it hadn’t been enough. You were too late. Max was gone. 

_Max was gone._

As you thought the words over and over to yourself, you lost the battle with your emotions and the tears fell freely down your face. You wiped at them in anger. You were hurt, exhausted, and had nothing to show for the last week. Who knew if you would ever get to confront him? To tell him how you really felt? Didn’t that matter to him? Perhaps he didn’t feel the same way about you if he had found it so easy to walk away. 

You dug through your purse for a kleenex as you sat on the concrete retainer wall outside the main entrance. Grounds-keeping had seemingly lost their battle with the rose bushes in the landscape as the pink flowers wilted in the cold New York air. What now? 

A muffled ringing was coming from your purse and you almost missed it over the sounds of your own sniffling. But when you realized it was your cell phone you started digging frantically for it. The number was one that you didn’t recognize but you quickly hit the green button and held it to your face with a hammering heart.

“Max?” you asked, and you hated how breathy your voice sounded, even to you. You were desperate to hear his voice, to know that even if it was too late, you both still existed under the same sky.

_“No, it’s Ted.”_

“Oh,” your whole body slumped as you wiped your eyes with the tissue and relaxed a bit. “Hey Ted. Max isn’t with me right now.”

_“I know he isn’t. He called me.”_

“He did what?” you asked, sitting up straight again.

_“He told me the wedding was off. That he was going back to Romania. Listen, I’m sorry. I was really rooting for you crazy kids.”_

Why wouldn’t Max tell him the truth? That it was all a ploy to get him to stay in the States? Apparently your confusion lasted too long because Ted continued talking. 

_“Anyway, I’m calling to confirm that you’re still interested in the position of Executive Sales Manager. Max wouldn’t let me off the phone until I promised it was yours. You have the experience, but I just need to know if you accept.”_

“I mean,” you cleared your throat and tried to sound as normal as you could, but if Ted believed you had just had your marriage ended before it began he probably wouldn’t think anything of the way your voice trembled. “Y-yeah. Of course. I’d love the job.”

_“Fantastic. Well, I can get the paperwork ready. Obviously you don’t have to come back until Monday, take the weekend for yourself--it’ll also save from any awkwardness.”_ He let out a hesitant chuckle and you felt your brows narrow. 

“Awkwardness? What awkwardness?” 

_“Well, with Max.”_

“Ted what are you talking about?” You quickly felt yourself losing patience. Max frequently talked about how little respect he had for the man, perhaps it had rubbed off on you over the years. 

_“Max is here cleaning out his office. But don’t worry, he said he has to be out of New York in 24 hours. I’ll make sure it’s cleaned up for you and I’ll put in an order for your nameplate that goes on the door--”_

"Wait--so, Max is...at the office? Right now?"

_"Yeah. That's what I said. Is the phone cutting out--"_

“Ted Shut up.” You stood suddenly and gripped the phone as you realized what he was saying. Max was here. Still in New York. He hadn’t left for Romania yet and that hadn’t been him that you had seen at the gate.

_“Pardon me?”_ Ted asked in surprise. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” you blurted out as you hung up and threw your bag over your shoulder. You ran for the edge of the sidewalk as you hailed yet another cab. 

\--

“Jerry!” Max looked over the papers in his hand as he dropped them into an open printer box to be shredded. When no response came he snarled and looked up towards the open door of his office. “Jerry! Son of a bitch,” he cursed quietly as he tossed the entire stack of files into the trash and walked towards the door.

The office had remained pretty much the same since he had last been in it a week ago. The only major difference of course was the fact that you weren’t here. People went about their work, phones rang, copiers buzzed, and the smell of successful capitalism was definitely one that he was going to miss--he still had no idea what he was going to do once he reached Romania. He turned his neck to each side slowly trying with little success to relieve the tension in his shoulders. 

“Jerry,” Max said as he walked out of his office and looked around. “Jerry I need those boxes to go with the other ones.”

“These?” the man in question asked and pointed to the stack.

“No, the other boxes--yes, of course those!” Max snapped and one of the women from accounting jumped slightly as she hurried passed him. 

He knew he had been difficult since he had gotten back but it felt good to have things back to normal. Normal in the way that people scattered every time he walked into a room, flinched when he spoke, yes, it was good to be back. He felt like a shark in the sense that if he stopped swimming he would drown. If he stopped pretending things were normal...well, he didn’t want to think about it. 

“Where do you want them to go?” Jerry asked.

“Send them to this address,” Max said, handing him the packing slip. “Stick all of these on the tops and the shipping company is coming to pick them up this afternoon.”

“Sure thing, boss,” he nodded and left to do as instructed. 

“Mr. Phillips?” a meek voice asked from his side.

“Hmm?” he hummed, uninterested in whatever the new temp had to say as he continued to look through the file. 

“Mr. Phillips?” she repeated with a pause before she cleared her throat. 

“Yes? What? What?” he barked, flinging the file down on the shelf of the nearest cubicle and looking at her. She jumped and raised a shaky hand, pointing in the direction of the elevator. He looked slowly over his shoulder, turning his whole body only to realize she was pointing at you. 

You knew you looked like hell. You hadn’t eaten, slept, or stopped since you left Alaska. Your feet hurt, your back hurt, and you desperately wanted to have a meltdown or just fucking sleep for three whole days in your own bed. Everyone peered over their desks and cubicle walls and all of the phones seemed to stop ringing as the two of you locked eyes from across the office. They had to know. Word traveled fast. Water-cooler gossip was the lifeblood of the modern office, and when it came to you and Max, well, that was a fucking gold mine. They knew their version of what had happened--that one week after your scandalous engagement to your bastard of a boss, he had left you at the altar.

“Sweetheart,” Max breathed softly as he felt his shoulders slump. 

“Hey,” you said as you started walking towards him. 

For the briefest of moments his face softened as you approached, then he quickly hid any shred of tenderness and looked you up and down. “Why are you panting?”

“Because I’ve been running,” you answered, drawing a deep breath to try and calm your hammering heart. 

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow then leaned back with a sarcastic expression. “From _Alaska_?”

That did it. All of your emotions from the last two days boiled out of you and before you could stop yourself you pulled your arm back with a flat palm and an intent to smack his handsome face. To your frustration Max was faster, and the entire office gasped as he snatched you by the wrist to keep you from hitting him. 

“Let go of me,” you said, feeling your lip start to tremble. You wouldn’t cry. You were so mad, so fucking mad and unfortunately tears of frustration and anger looked the same as any other tears. 

“Not until I know you won’t slap me,” he snarled, keeping his hold on you. 

“I need to talk to you,” you said, jerking your arm back but he held fast, pulling you a step closer to him. 

“Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t really have time to talk,” he dropped your arm abruptly and you rubbed your wrist on instinct. “I have to catch a 5:45 to Romania.”

“Max…”

“I need these boxes to go out today,” he gestured behind him without taking his eyes off of you. 

“Max,” you repeated, your voice feeling stronger. It was now or never. 

“I need to make sure that everything is--”

“Max! STOP. TALKING.” When you yelled, the entire office fell into an even heavier silence. All eyes were on the pair of you as everyone held their breath, most likely waiting for him to rip your throat out. But you knew better. He wouldn’t. He was going to let you speak. “I need to say something and you’re going to listen.”

“Okay,” he finally agreed.

“This will only take a second,” you said, clenching your fists at your sides and gathering your courage. “Then you can do whatever the hell you want.”

“Okay, fine, what?” he crossed his arms and you suddenly knew it was all an act. The cold Max at the wedding, the frightening Max standing before you, he was wearing just as much armor as you were and it was time for it to come off. 

“Seven days ago, I loathed you,” you began, careful to keep your voice even. “I used to dream about you getting hit by a cab, or staked--”

“Oh--”

“Or putting holy water in your coffee--”

“That actually wouldn’t work--”

“I often wondered if I could somehow shove you into a tanning bed and let the UV light do its job.” You said the last with a voice so controlled that the look of unbridled terror on his face was worth it. 

“Oh, well, that’s nice. A bit violent--” 

“I said ‘stop talking’,” you reminded him and a few of the employees put their hands over their mouths. “Then we had our little adventure up in Alaska and things started to change.”

He looked away from you then, down to his feet for the briefest of seconds before clearing his throat and looking back up. You knew he wanted so badly to interrupt, but as you had asked, well, demanded, he stayed quiet. 

“Things changed that day I went for a run, and we saw each other naked.” A few whispers broke out among the spectators and you ignored them. 

“Well, I didn’t see anything that day, so don’t flatter yourself--” he lied and you cut him off.

“Yes you did,” you argued. “And things kept changing when you told me about your scar and your family--” you bit your lip and closed your eyes tightly for a moment before continuing. “And when we had sex.”

A chorus of deep gasps broke out among the office and Max whipped his head around to glare at all of them. He snarled and his fangs descended enough to make a few people squeal before you snapped your fingers in front of his face and brought his attention back to you. 

“But I didn’t realize any of this until I was up on that altar,” you gestured to the floor, “Standing alone--without a husband.” You took another step closer to him and he held his ground. “Now, you can imagine my disappointment when it suddenly dawned on me that the man I might, possibly, sort-of love is about to get kicked out of the country.”

“Don’t,” Max said, closing his eyes and saying your name softly, not a nickname, your real name.

“So, Max, now I have to ask you something, for real this time,” you said, reaching out and taking his hand in yours gently. He opened his eyes and looked down and saw you were still wearing the ring he had given you. He looked up at you in shock but you continued. “Will you stay and marry me? Because I’d like to _date_ you.”

The silence hung in the air as Max traced the pad of his thumb over your knuckles and watched the way the ruby of your ring glittered in the fluorescent lights of the office. You were still wearing it. He blew a breath through his nose and looked at you slowly and you almost didn’t believe the way his eyes were just a tad shinier than normal. Max Phillips didn’t cry. He never had and he wasn’t about to start now. Besides, could he even if he wanted to? Because despite how much you cared about him you weren’t sure what you would do if blood started to run down his cheeks. 

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he said, coughing when his voice started to crackle. “You uh--you don’t want to be with someone like me.”

“Yes, I do.”

He shook his head but he held your hand more firmly in his. “See, the thing is, there is a reason why I've been alone all this time.” He shrugged and looked back into your eyes, “I'm comfortable that way. And I think it would just be a lot easier if we forgot everything that happened and I--and I just left.”

“You’re right,” you said, and the way his eyes widened and his face fell made your heart ache a bit. “That would be _easier_. But I thought you liked a challenge?”

His mouth tilted up into a small grin and he dipped his head towards you, lowering his voice. “Don’t uh--don’t tell anyone but I’m scared.”

“You’re scared? I’m the one that’s marrying a vampire. I don’t know why you’re the one that’s--” you squeaked as Max cut you off with a hard kiss. 

He smiled against your lips, knowing full well your tangent was meant to make him laugh and feel better. He kissed you because it worked. You moaned contently against his mouth as he cupped your face in his large hands and tilted his head, leaning closer as your eyes slipped shut. A few of the staff clapped and cheered, reminding him you were not alone and kept him from running his tongue along your bottom lip. 

His forehead rested against yours as he asked quietly, “Aren’t you supposed to get down on one knee?” 

“Don’t push your luck, Mr. Phillips,” you said, making him chuckle as he slipped his hands down your arms and around to the small of your back. “Although, I’m gonna take that as a ‘yes’.” 

“Show her who’s boss, Max!” a male voice yelled. Although you didn’t take your eyes away from the man in front of you, you were pretty sure it had been Michael from the sales department--a terrible employee that spent overtime watching porn at his desk. 

Max snarled, keeping his voice low. “I’m going to eat him.”

“Go right ahead,” you laughed softly, moving your arms around his neck as he leaned in to claim your lips again. Company be damned, he had let go of you once, he wasn’t about to make that mistake again. 


	13. The Happy Ending (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months later...  
> I cannot believe so many things about this right now. I can’t believe that this was the story I wound up finishing first, that I fell this head over heels for Max Fucking Phillips, that I wrote 60k words about the bastard, and that in ten years of writing fic this is my second completed series. I will be posting the Cherries Masterlist later today for easier accessibility.

##  _**Three Months Later** _

You heard the door to the apartment open and close with a soft click. The bed was much too inviting, however, for you to do much more than roll over. The way the heavy down comforter and soft cotton sheets felt against your skin was always enough to tempt you into hitting the snooze button. It was about that time that normally you felt an arm drape across your waist--since he didn’t need to sleep, Max usually pounced on his opportunity to hold you the very moment he knew you were awake. This morning though, that arm didn’t come, and you reached over to feel nothing but empty sheets.

“Max?” you mumbled into the pillows, moving your arm back and forth over the sheets on his side of the bed. Empty.

For three months you had lived in the penthouse apartment of Max Fucking Phillips. Something that four months ago you would have laughed at the very idea of it even happening. You had argued about living arrangements, arguing seemed to be one of your favorite pastimes together. Light jests and innuendos that always lead to a compromise and sex. This time though, Max won, and the two of you had quickly settled into his place at Central Park West. You had to admit, it was a ridiculously nice apartment. 

After coming back from Alaska the two of you went to the courthouse and filed for a marriage license along with a certificate from INS that allowed Max to stay in the country as your husband--for real this time.

Well, maybe not for real in the sense that you were marrying him for love. Even though you did sort of, maybe, love him? It was complicated. But what you both knew was that there was something there. And that something was more than enough to make sure he stayed in the states and not back in Romania.

Neither one of you needed to say the real thing. At least not yet. Max had been hurt before..a lot. And so had you. For now the most important thing was that the both of you knew it was real and any words or labels were just over the horizon--when you both were ready.

“I heart you,” you said one night while the two of you were cuddled on the couch with a nightcap and the television.

“You heart me?” Max said, setting his glass on the coffee table and putting a hand to his chest. “Sweetheart, I’m flattered. Is that a step below you ‘like- _like_ -ing’ me?” he mocked you and you put your hand on his face and shoved him away as he tried to kiss you.

"Forget it--"

"No, no, don't be like that. Come here, I heart you back--"

“You ass--ah! Max!” you shrieked as he pushed you back into the couch and covered you with his body.

“It’s not nice to call your boss names--”

“You’re not my boss anymore, you egotistical frat bo--”

He cut you off with a searing kiss and you made a soft sound against his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Every tease, every grin, every play fight you had ended in sex. The two of you did that a lot actually, and your libido grew with the fact that Max had stamina for days. His vampiric prowess meant that if you wanted it...you got it. 

It was true--Max wasn’t your boss anymore. You stayed in his former executive sales position at _Devour_ and, with your encouragement, he started his own business. He did what he did best--he schmoozed. He pimped himself out to the paranormal rich and famous across New York, managing their money, their estates, and convincing the century-old members of the undead that there was more to finances than keeping your wealth in coin-form in a crypt. Max could make your money work for you. And goddamn was he good at it.

The most surprising part was the amounts that he convinced his clients to put forth into charity. Paranormal rights groups and lawyers soon knew exactly who he was and word was getting around fast. Max, in a last ditch effort to defend his love of capitalism, claimed it was for the sole purpose of getting the tax write-off, but you knew the truth. Max Phillips had finally learned to care about something other than himself.

You were almost asleep again before you felt a chill of air come over your feet and ankles as the blanket lifted at the edge of the bed.

“I know you’re awake. Your heart beats differently when you’re awake.” Big hands and deft fingers nudged your legs apart as Max settled between your knees under the covers and nosed his face against the lace of your underwear.

“Maaaax,” you groaned softly, keeping your eyes closed. “It’s too early.”

“Is it? It’s breakfast time, isn’t it?”

“You know I hate when you refer to me as food, right?” you laughed as you reached under the blankets and put your hands in his hair.

“You’re not just food, sweetheart,” he gripped your thighs and let out a groan as he nosed your core and licked a hot, wet line over the seam of your panties. “You’re the whole damn meal.”

“Oh. My. God. _Max_ \--” you chastised him with another laugh but when he gripped the lace and pulled, you lifted your hips to let him do it without complaint.

It had taken almost a month to convince him and although Max was stubborn, so were you. Eventually his strength wore out. His ability to say ‘no’ in fear of scaring you off went away, and you finally got him to bite you. To your complete and utter un-surprise, he had been hooked ever since. He often said it was as if the universe had put his favorite drug inside of his favorite person, and no man, not even him, could say ‘no’ to that.

True to his word and his promises of the first time--he always asked, he was never greedy, and it was always paired with a mind-blowing orgasm.

“I went out and got you coffee,” he mumbled against your cunt, using his fingers to part your folds so he could lap at your center.

“Hmm, best husband in the world,” you cooed, moving the blanket just enough so you could see his head. “The usual?”

“As if I would get you anything else,” he chuckled. “It’s like Christmas in a cup.”

You turned your head and read the label taped to the paper cup-- _double shot, non-fat, almond milk, cinnamon vanilla latte_ \--you smiled wide remembering your secretary days of you bringing them to him.

“Coffee in bed and oral? What’s the occasion?” you hummed as you closed your eyes. You gasped as he licked his way to the top of your slit, heavy broad strokes of his tongue that made you arch off of the bed and press his head down hard. He sucked your click and you gripped his hair with another sound of pleasure--he was distracting you.

“No occasion,” he mumbled, using his fingers to spread your wetness down your pussy and nose your coarse curls out of his way. “Just let me take care of my girl--”

“You told my mother we would come up there for Christmas didn’t you?” you said as sternly as you could while his face was buried between your thighs. His continued silence was answer enough. The two of you had been going back and forth on spending the holidays up in Alaska and your mother had been laying on the guilt pretty thick. You knew how to play the game and refused to cave. “You big softie. She played you.”

“Yeah, well, apparently it runs in the family,” he snarked and before you could retort, he gave your clit another hard suck and teased your entrance with his fingers. He mouthed the flesh of your thigh and allowed his teeth to graze along your tender skin.

“Fuck,” you whispered, reaching back to grab the pillow behind you. “C-can you do it on the other leg this time? The right one is still a little sore.”

Max’s favorite place to bite you wasn’t your neck, although he liked that as well. His favorite place was up high on the bend of your inner thigh. The femoral artery may have been the thickest but it wasn’t high enough. He expertly went for your iliac while he was usually knuckle deep in your pussy and you rarely had any complaints.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ll fix that.” He leaned back so he could get a better look at the bruise and small punctures on your right leg.

“It’s not a big deal. It’ll get better in a few days--you worry too much.”

“Only about you,” he said seriously as he looked up at you.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and flexed his jaw, his telling tick that always warned you what was coming next. His fangs descended with ease and he used one to pierce the tip of his pointer finger. A single dot of crimson formed a droplet on the surface of his skin and he rubbed it over the old bite wound on your leg. It took the pain away and you kept your eyes on him as your skin healed over in a matter of seconds, the bruise fading like it was a month old instead of just a few days. However thankful you may have been, it still was a lot to wrap your head around at times.

“See?” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Easy.”

You leaned up, cupping his face and kissing him gently. You loved kissing him when his fangs were down. The hard press behind his upper lip, the way your tongue gracefully slipped between and around them, it made you shiver. Max counted himself among one of the luckiest men in the world when he realized you were being honest about enjoying a thing such as that. You enjoyed all of him, not just tolerated it, but _enjoyed_ it, all of it--including his more monstrous side.

Your cellphone started to buzz from the charging station on your nightstand and you both paused, pulling back just a fraction of an inch to speak.

“Wanna bet that’s her?” he asked with a grin.

“Why don’t you answer it since you’re son-in-law of the year?” you whispered against his mouth and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s what speakerphone is for. Drink your coffee,” he leaned back in and nipped your lips, giving you a few soft pecks as his voice slipped into a low growl. “We’ll continue...the other stuff later.”

“Deal,” you smirked back, giving him one last peck and leaning over to tap the speaker button on your phone screen. “Hey mom--you’re on speaker.”

_“Is Max there, too?”_

“Fuck. Am I chopped liver now?” you asked, picking up the cup and letting it warm your hands as you leaned back against the headboard.

_“Language, dear.”_

“Hi, mom,” Max laughed as he shucked off his pants and pulled back on his sweats. Apparently neither of you had plans on leaving the house again today. He hoped in bed and shoved a pillow behind him so you could lean back against his chest.

_“Did you buy your tickets? You know those prices are only going to go up with everyone wanting to travel--”_

“Well, I only found out a few minutes ago that it had been decided we were coming up there,” you said bitterly into your coffee and Max pinched your nipple through your tank top. You squeaked and coughed into the hot liquid, giving him a glare over your shoulder.

_“Oh no! Was it a surprise? Max, honey, did I ruin it?”_ Your mother said with such a pathetic sadness in your voice that you almost groaned.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Max said kindly. His fingers made another move for your breast as you mimicked his sickly sweet tone with your mother by flapping your hand like a puppet and mouthing his words silently. You smacked his hand away and settled back against his chest. “She’s just grumpy--only had the first sip of her coffee.”

_“She gets that way you know,”_ your mother said as if she knew exactly what he was talking about. _“There’s no reasoning with her before coffee.”_

“I’m right here,” you scoffed, looking from the phone to the man behind you and back again. “I can hear all of this!”

_“Max, take me off speaker and we can roast her freely.”_

“Ridiculous,” you crossed your arms against your chest and huffed. “Absolutely ridiculous. My own mother and boyfriend--”

The two of them laughed while you continued to complain and Max reached around you to tuck the blanket in more as he kissed your cheek. His tender affections annoyingly calmed any irritation you had building up. He nibbled the shell of your ear and rubbed his hands over your arms carefully. Damn, he was good at that. Even without the ability to hypnotize you, he was able to read you like an open book.

_“Well, whatever airline you choose, make sure they let you bring Champ--I want to see my grandson.”_

“You know I hate it when you call him that,” you said with a grimace as Max chuckled.

_“That’s what he is, isn’t he?”_

A month ago Max had surprised you. You had been buried in paperwork and clacking away at your laptop, over exhausted, over caffeinated, and taking off your glasses long enough to rub your eyes from staring too long at the blue light of the screen. In a cliche chain of events, Max had told you that you had been working too hard, to close your eyes and hold out your hands, as he placed something warm and incredibly fuzzy in your arms.

The twelve week old shiba inu pup looked like someone had taken Kevin and put him in the dryer. The orange ball of fluff was so tiny that the red ribbon and bow around his neck was almost as big as his head. Max could not have been more proud of himself as you turned the metal tag over on his collar and read the name ‘ _Champ_ ’.

“I was going to name him ‘Slugger’ but I knew you wouldn’t let me get away with that one,” Max confessed as you looked between him and the puppy with wide eyes.

You wanted to protest, to argue, to say that the last thing the two of you needed on top of everything else was a dog. But you didn’t. Max looked so happy. Champ didn’t growl or bark at him or even seem to care that he was a vampire. And the night that you walked in on Max asleep on the couch with Champ curled on his chest, you knew there was no way on Earth you could deny him this.

So the dog stayed. And he fit into your lives pretty perfectly.

“Yes, we’re bringing Champ,” you sighed and leaned your head back on Max’s shoulder, closing your eyes. “Don’t worry, mom.”

_“Good! Yay! He’s going to love Kevin!”_ She said with such excitement in her voice it was palpable.

“Kevin is getting old, mom, I think he will like the puppy for all of fifteen seconds.”

_“Well, then he can go down into the den with your father and that will just be the old grump house.”_

"What's dad upset about, now?" You asked exasperatedly.

_"What he isn't upset about these days would be a much shorter list, honey--oh! Before I forget--did Max get his package?"_

The two of you exchanged a look before you raised an eyebrow at the phone. "What package?"

_"Grandma sent him something."_

"You're getting gifts now?" You looked at Max and he shrugged. "Did you hypnotize my family and not tell me?"

"Maybe I'm just naturally that charming?" Max asked and you scoffed.

_"She was very adamant you have it before Christmas so go check your mail and text me so I know you got it, okay?"_

"Sure thing," Max rested his chin on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you. “Do you need us to bring anything when we come up?”

_“Just yourselves.”_ She said sweetly in true-mom fashion. There was a pause in which you and Max shared a look and a smile, assuring her you could definitely do that. _“Good. Then we will see you kids in a few weeks. Okay? Mwah. Mwah. Love you both--stay warm.”_

The phone beeped as you said your goodbyes and your mother hung up. Max untangled himself from you and went into the kitchen. While you waited for him to return, you took another big sip of coffee, listening and he rifled through the items on the counter.

"Did you find it?" You called.

"Yeah!"

You sent a quick text of confirmation to your mom as Max came back into the bedroom and hopped back in bed behind you.

"You wanna open it? Since you're so jealous." He grinned as he tore open the large, padded, yellow envelope.

"And to think you were off to such a good start this morning," you laughed into your cup.

Max chuckled and thoroughly checked the envelope for a note of some sort but there wasn’t one. That was uncharacteristic of your grandmother you thought, but you waited as he took a box out of the envelope and held it in his hand. You knew what it was. And by the look on his face...so did Max.

Your grandfather’s cuff links were positioned in the box in a way that you knew they had been placed there with great care. They glittered as he gently inspected them, turning them over in his hands before closing the box and clearing his throat. He looked away from you then, perched on the edge of the bed and holding it between his knees, looking at the ground.

“Hey,” you said quietly, moving to your knees beside him. You rubbed your hand over his shoulders and put your other over his arm in a modified hug. “She’s never been very patient when it comes to gifts--you know this means she wants you to wear them when we come up.”

“I know,” he said, still not looking up. “It’s just--still a new feeling.”

“What is?” you asked. “Someone liking you?”

Max laughed, relaxing his shoulders as you continued to rub them. You stayed quiet as he quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and cleared his throat again. “You think she likes me?”

You laughed abruptly at his innocent question but then patted his arm and answered with honesty. “You’re well on your way to becoming her favorite. Which is easy--since for the last five years of having the boss from hell, I didn’t have time to date.”

“So, you’re saying she has nothing to compare me to?”

“Exactly, buddy.” You gave him an awkward wink and a pair of finger guns and he rolled his eyes at you. He leaned over, putting the package on the nightstand before turning back and caging you in with his arms, pressed to the bed.

“And what about you, sweetheart?” he nosed your neck as you plopped back down into the pillows and he followed. “Am I your favorite?”

“Man, you are needy this morning,” you scoffed, breaking out in goosebumps as he kissed his way up your throat. “I guess you’re okay--you did bring me coffee so that’s a plus. But you could do better.”

“Better?” he asked with a gasp as you teased him.

“I mean coffee only goes so far, you left a very important job unfinished--oh…”

“You mean this?” he asked. His voice had dropped an octave as his hand slipped under the covers and between your thighs. He let you grip his arm as he coaxed your legs apart with a soft smack to each of them with his fingertips.

“Yeah…” you swallowed hard. “Yeah, that.”

“Let me fix that then.” He teased his fingers along your folds and leaned down to speak against your mouth. “Ask me nicely.”

“Excuse you?” you leaned back to try and get a better look at him. The sheer audacity of this man would not stop shocking you for a long time, you were sure of it.

“You heard me. You want something...ask me nicely,” he grinned as he chased your lips and let a little more of his weight lay on you.

“Max,” you whispered as he gave your clit a feather-light touch before taking it away. “Max, please.”

“You can do better.”

You swallowed hard and felt your face grow hot as you remembered something he had said on his knees, in the middle of a New York sidewalk. It felt like a lifetime ago. You slid your arms around his neck as you brought one of your legs up to hitch over his hip. “Pretty please... _with cherries on top_?”

##  _The End_


End file.
